


The Beautiful People

by edawnings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Sex, Break Up, Daitsukki is minor, Flirting, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Makeup, Making Out, Oikuroo is somewhat minor and will only be in the beginning, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edawnings/pseuds/edawnings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'<i>"You know, Tsukki," Kuroo said, stepping closer to swipe his thumb across the blond's bottom lip. "You'd think after constantly being around beautiful people, I'd get used to their beauty. So why do you think you got my attention so easily?" He stepped closer, so their faces were merely inches apart, his fingers still on Tsukishima's skin.</i></p><p><i>Tsukishima looked at him down the bridge of his nose. "I'm not interested." </i>'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> A new series... I'm not totally sure I'll be able to handle both this and People Like Us, but I'm determined to try. Anyway, this is the modeling AU that literally no one asked for. Of course it's Kurotsukki and Bokuaka again. I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

Tsukishima could model. Modeling, for him, was nothing. It wasn’t difficult, it wasn’t easy. It just was. It was about body language, and subtle expressions, and the arch of his spine. Meeting other people, on the other hand, was not so simple. He wasn’t good at it. It’s not because he was unlikeable— many people liked him, despite his bad attitude and constantly sour expression. He just genuinely didn’t like people. They were loud, and energetic, and they never seemed to be able to say anything other than the same things to Tsukishima. “Wow you’re so tall,” “You really grew up nicely,” “How tall are you?” “What do your parents thing of this whole modeling business?” It was boring. He didn’t like answering questions in the first place, much less stupid questions. He knew he was tall. He knew he was attractive. He wouldn’t be modeling otherwise. In a few minutes, Tsukishima would be meeting a bunch of other models. He’d have to get used to these people, because he was going to live and work with them from now on. No, he wasn’t looking forward to it, but really, there wasn’t much he looked forward to.

“Excuse me, are you Tsukishima Kei?” a short, brown haired man asked, looking more excited and nervous than Tsukishima felt. Glasses sat on his nose, a smile on his lips. He had curly brown hair and a short build.

“I am.” Tsukishima stuck his hand out to shake hands with the smaller man, observing him. He seemed friendly enough, just by sight, and he was obviously pleased to be in Tsukishima’s presence.

“I’m Takeda Ittetsu, your agent. Is this your first time here at Ace?” he asked, beckoning Tsukishima to follow him with a nod of his head. Tsukishima followed him into an elevator, red bag thrown over his shoulder. Everything about the building screamed professionalism, from the shiny black countertops, to the glass tables that sat next to plain leather couches.

“Yes,” Tsukishima answered, stepping into the elevator. The walls were mirrors, as was the ceiling. Tsukishima looked down his nose at his own reflection. He’d just been moved to Ace’s modeling firm. He’d worked with a few different companies before, shooting a few pictures for alternative photography, catalogues and retail ads, but he’d never officially been a part of a modeling company before. Which meant he’d never properly been in a makeup room or worked with other professional models before. It would certainly be a learning experience.

“I’ll give you a quick debrief of where everything is,” Takeda smiled, stepping out of the elevator and into a large room with black couches and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He pointed to the other end of the room, where three solid black doors stood. “Those are the makeup rooms. They’re pretty big, so there will usually be a few models getting made up at once. We have a few cosmetic teams working with us at the moment, including IMBUE, Melt, Milani, and Lorac. Hair will also be done in there. If you need touch ups— plucking, waxing,” he glanced up at Tsukishima, “although it doesn’t look like you’ll need much of that— it’ll be done there while prepping for a shoot. Over here,” he explained, walking down a hallway, “will be the studios you’ll be doing most of your shooting in.” The rooms were solid white and completely empty, except for a few hanging lighting fixtures and a window or so. “Most designers come here to do shoots, but a few will go elsewhere. At the other end of this hall, finally, is where your managers and I will meet with you.” He lead him down the hall, into an office where a blond man sat at a desk, talking to a dark haired secretary, pretty enough to be one of the models. She had pale skin, not unlike Tsukishima, but her hair was perfectly straight and black. She had a pretty face, glasses resting on her straight nose. She had a completely neutral expression on her face, but she looked like she was taking in everything the man was saying.

“— with Kuroo, and you know how difficult that might turn out to be. I haven’t met the kid yet, but— Excuse me, Kiyoko.” The dark haired girl, Kiyoko, nodded silently and walked past Tsukishima, out of the room. “Morning, I’m Ukai Keishin” the man smiled, gesturing to a chair for Tsukishima. He picked up a paper, something Tsukishima recognized as his application, and began reading off of it. “190 centimeters, blonde hair, gold eyes. You must be Tsukishima. Takeda, could you get me his room key for him? It’s 142. Anyway, we’re glad to have you here, Mister Tsukishima. The portfolio you submitted was quite impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ukai had a… rough look about him. Tsukishima could faintly smell cigarettes in the room, and there was a gold tray with ash in it on his desk. He had bleached blond hair, sideburns and roots showing a dark brown. He wore a suit, but the top buttons on his shirt were undone and his tie was loose around his neck. He looked professional enough, but there was just enough carelessness to make him look like he could easily ruin your day.

“I especially liked that alternative shoot you did, with the black curtains. Although, I do wish they’d put some makeup on you. You have some improving to do, but that’ll come with time. As your manager, I’ll be getting you as many bookings as possible, and there’s no doubt that you’ll feel overworked. The more shoots you do, the more money the both of us make. Unfortunately, you’re new, and there are other managers who want their models to be booked for every shoot possible, so it might be hard to squeeze you in there at first. The better you get, the more designers want you for their shoots. The prettier you are, the more popular you are. Understand?” Ukai was grinning at him, leaned forward on one elbow. Takeda returned, a key dangling off of a room number.

“Yes.”

Ukai leaned back, taking the key from Takeda. “Good. Now, as you know, we supply rooms for our models. We don’t want to have to worry about you kids finding apartments, or driving all the way here. We need you as rested as you can be. Beauty sleep is a real thing. We have you in room 142, with Kuroo Tetsurou. He’s under Nekomata’s contract— that’s another manager— but he and I like to work together. We’re all under the same firm, after all. Plus, it makes Ace look a lot better to designers, and with both of our models together, it really creates a pretty picture. Kuroo is one of their top models, he’s been doing it for years. Kuroo is a great model, hopefully you’ll learn from all his experience. He’s a bit… wild, sometimes, so if you have any real problems, come to us and we’ll move you.”

“Alright.” Great. A wild roommate already. What, was this college? It was bad enough not getting enough sleep then, but now, when he’d have to be up and at it in the morning, while looking good, it’d be even more important. He hoped to god wild meant excitable, or something along those lines. That would be annoying, but it’d be better than losing sleep just because his roommate felt like hosting a party.

Ukai sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, Kuroo’s a nice guy. He’s not too insane, for the most part, he’s just a bit loud. His friends, on the other hand, are equally loud and even more insane than he is. They’re night owls, to say the least. But hey, everyone’s had a loud roommate before. You’ll be fine, kid.” Ukai stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt wasn’t tucked in either.

Tsukishima stood, shaking Ukai’s hand. “Thank you.” Takeda tilted his head at Tsukishima, smiling. He walked out of the office, leaving him to follow. Ukai followed him to the door, leaning on the doorframe.

“Oh, before I forget. You’re scheduled for a shoot tomorrow at noon. It’s some alternative clothing line—”

“Fathom Clothing,” Takeda smiled.

“Thanks, Takeda. Anyway, you’re scheduled with Akaashi Keiji, one of Yamiji’s boys. Fathom wanted to get a few shots for their website, including a few retail shots and a banner. They’ve worked with us for a while, so fitting a newbie in there wasn’t a problem at all. I’d recommend getting into hair and makeup at about eleven. They’re going to want some real avant-garde stuff, so I’d prepare for that. Thanks, Tsukishima.” And he shut the door, nearly in Tsukishima’s face.

Takeda shook his head amusedly. “Sorry about that,” he apologized sheepishly. “I’ll show you to your room, then you can have the rest of the day to yourself. We’re really excited to have you with us, Tsukishima. With your body type, it’ll be no problem getting you booked for shoots. Designers eat your type up. With your height on top of that, Ukai and I are sure you’ll have no problem gaining popularity.”

Tsukishima nodded in response. He suspected Takeda was talking about how lanky he was. He was thin, with long limbs, and his height made him look like some otherworldly being. He got that a lot. He looked stretched out, and designers did tend to love how he could contort himself just by arching his spine. Avant-garde poses more or less came with his body type. The shoot tomorrow would be no problem at all.

Takeda lead him down a few hallways, down an elevator, over to a building that resembled an apartment complex. He wandered around the side of the building, looking at the room numbers, stopping quickly. 

“This is it,” Takeda beamed, handing Tsukishima the key. “I would open the door to let you in and all that, but I’ve learned my lesson about opening doors without knocking. Especially Kuroo’s. So this is where I leave. Enjoy your stay!” He scampered off, more or less jogging, leaving Tsukishima to stare at the number 42 on a plain white door. He decided to ignore what Takeda said, not quite understanding it, and unlocked the door, half hoping that no one would be inside. It was only one roommate, how bad could he be?

Tsukishima threw his bag over his shoulder and shoved the door open. He moved to stand in the doorway, eyes wandering around the room to the center, where a black leather couch sat. That’s where Tsukishima’s brain stopped working. On the couch, was an insanely attractive man. His hair was awful, sticking up in every direction as if the man had just woken up, but he was so good looking that it actually irritated Tsukishima. On his lap, sat a man who could loosely be described as perfect. He straddled the darker haired man’s lap, kissing him until the other started to work his mouth down his long neck and onto his collarbones. He had brown hair, styled into perfect waves, just messy enough to be considered purposeful. He had milky white skin, revealed by the shirt falling off of his shoulders, where the darker haired man had his mouth. Long fingers were tangled in that mess of inky black hair, seemingly pulling him closer. The darker haired man had his hands under the other’s shirt, feeling the skin there. The brunette panted loudly as the other’s teeth pressed into his neck.

“Oh, Tetsu, don’t leave any marks,” he panted. So this bedhead-ridden man was Kuroo Tetsurou. Tsukishima could already see that he was… odd. Kuroo growled and pressed his face further into the other man’s neck, biting harder.

“Excuse me,” Tsukishima interrupted, closing the door behind him.

Kuroo pushed the brunette off of him, letting his long limbs sprawl out on the floor. He shot Kuroo a dirty look, standing up and adjusting his disheveled clothing. “You must be my new roommate,” Kuroo smiled, offering the blond a hand. Tsukishima glanced down at it, disregarding it and moving his eyes back up to Kuroo’s face. “Sorry, I forgot. What’s your name? I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” He gave a wide grin, looking Tsukishima up and down.

“Tsukishima Kei.” He didn’t really want to talk to Kuroo. He wanted to be show his room so he could be left alone to unpack his few belongings.

“Tsukishima /kei,” Kuroo repeated, syllables rolling off of his tongue as if he were trying to taste those words. “What a pretty name. Who’s your manager?”

“Ukai.” Tsukishima’s eyes watched the brunette step closer to the both of them, throwing his arms around Kuroo’s neck from behind. He really was an attractive man. His face was structured so perfectly he was practically a template for male models to follow. He had high cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and a cute nose. His perfectly pouty lips sent Tsukishima a smile too friendly to be genuine. He was all long limbs and healthy colours. He pissed Tsukishima off already.

Kuroo must have seen him staring. “This is Oikawa Tooru. He’s a good… friend of mine.” He snickered, head tilting so he could further inspect the blond.

Oikawa gave a light, breathy laugh, kissing Kuroo on the side of his muscular neck. “I have a shoot soon, so I better get going.” He grabbed his jacket from the floor, checking the pocket for his phone. “I’ll leave you two at it. See you tonight, Tetsu-chan.” He winked, slipping behind Tsukishima and out the door. Kuroo just sighed.

“Sorry about him, he likes to provoke people. Anyway, follow me for the grand tour.” Tsukishima followed him into another room.

“I wasn’t provoked,” Tsukishima assured. He was an even-tempered person. It’d take a lot more than a threatening smile to get his blood boiling. In fact, he was bored.

“You’re a lucky person then. He finds joy in making other people mad.” He showed Tsukishima the kitchen, then the bathroom. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t gotten punched in the face yet. He lead the blond down a hallway, smacking his hand against a door to his right. “This is my room. Don’t be alarmed, I have a lot of sex. It’s hard not to when you’re constantly surrounded by beautiful people. Hopefully you won’t be able to hear it, because your room is at the end of the hallway.” He pointed to a door identical to his.

“Thank you,” Tsukishima nodded, stepping closer to his room.

“You’re welcome. If you want, I can give you an actual tour of Ace. Not the one your agent gave you. Plus, I’ll introduce you to a few people I know. And you can actually see some modeling in action. You know, to see what type of competition you’re up against.” Kuroo stood across the hallway from Tsukishima, shifting his weight onto one foot and picking the skin of his lip with his fingers.

A tour didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He knew the basics, thanks to Takeda, but that was only to get him through the day. If Kuroo showed him what he knew, and the models he’d have to face, he’d already be one step ahead of everyone else. It was always fun, watching people model. They transformed from weird, attractive people, into works of art. “Sure,” Tsukishima agreed, opening his door and setting his bag on the bed. He sat down on his new bed, looking around. The room wasn’t too bad. It had a closet, a bed, and a nightstand. It was cramped, but Tsukishima doubted he’d be in here much anyway. Not with an entire modeling firm to explore.

There was a crash in the living room, followed by a “Please be careful.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” a voice yelled, practically shaking the walls. “What’s up?”

Tsukishima could hear Kuroo sigh. “Keep it down, dumbass. I just got my new roommate, I don’t want your loud mouth to scare him away already.”

“Roomate?”

“Bokuto, please don’t—”

A large man crashed through Tsukishima’s door, wide gold eyes staring at him. The man, Bokuto, had white hair, styled to look like some sort of horns. Tsukishima briefly wondered if all of Kuroo’s friends had as equally odd hair as him. The man stepped inside of Tsukishima’s room, staring down at him. He was muscular, more so than Kuroo, and he was broad. Broad shoulders connected to thick biceps, down to the thick muscles of his thighs. He was probably just as in shape under the tank top he wore. He looked like an excited puppy, trying to watch an insect closely enough so he could crush it under his foot. Tsukishima didn’t say anything, just looked up at that expectant grin and unwavering gold eyes.

“Bokuto, stop staring at him,” a quiet, calm voice chided. A dark haired man walked in the room. If Tsukishima thought Oikawa was pretty, he should’ve waited until he saw this man. Oikawa was probably the perfect specimen, but this man was pretty in an entirely different way. He had long, inky eyelashes to match the curly hair framing his face. His skin was fair, even lighter than Oikawa’s, and it was made obvious with how dark everything else was. His eyes were a dark blue-green, staring calmly at the man named Bokuto. His face was perfectly proportioned, cheekbones high, lips a perfect pout, and his eyes half lidded into what looked like blissful boredom. He wore a black turtleneck, as if he needed anymore contrast against his smooth white skin. He looked entirely different from the man he was standing next to.

“Akaashi!” the white haired man yelled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “He’s so cute!” He turned his attention back to Tsukishima, who still sat silently on his bed.

Kuroo sighed loudly from the hallway. “I’m sorry about him, Tsukishima. This is Bokuto and Akaashi. Bokuto is the dumb one.” He peeked his head into Tsukishima’s room, glancing at the blond and giving him an apologetic shake of his head.

Bokuto opened his mouth to retort, but Akaashi cut him off. “You’re Tsukishima? Don’t I have a shoot with you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, with Fathom. You must be Akaashi Keiji.” Tsukishima finally stood to look over Kuroo’s friends. He was taller than both of them, but that was no surprise. There wasn’t anyone he’d met that he hadn’t been taller than.

“Nice to meet you,” Akaashi nodded. “Are you an avant-garde model?”

Bokuto took a deep breath, only to sigh: “hot.”

Tsukishima’s eyes flickered over to him, trying to ignore his words. Akaashi shot him a less than friendly look. “I haven’t done much avant-garde stuff, but Ukai seems to think so.”

Kuroo’s head poked in, a toothbrush in his mouth. Why he was brushing his teeth at three in the afternoon, Tsukishima wasn’t sure. “You totally have the body for it,” Kuroo commented, foam escaping from the side of his mouth.

“So I’ve heard,” Tsukishima said, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Bokuto bounced excitedly. “Akaashi does a lot of avant-garde modeling too, but he usually wears feminine clothes. Dude, Kuroo, bro, can you imagine how crazy it’d be if they put some heels on Tsukishima? That’d be terrifying and arousing all at the same time.”

Kuroo nodded approvingly. “Yeah it would. They put Suga and Oikawa in heels occasionally and I get so hard I nearly pass out. You’d look great, Tsukishima.” He popped out of Tsukishima’s room just as quickly as he had appeared.

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind them,” he said quietly, “they’re pigs.” As he said it, a small smile turned his lips upward.

Bokuto threw an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, pulling him closer so he could press a kiss to his cheek. “You love it,” Bokuto grinned confidently.

Akaashi pressed a hand into Bokuto’s stomach, eyes glaring up at him. “You’re lucky I do.”

Kuroo stepped into Tsukishima’s room, pushing Bokuto and Akaashi to the side. “You ready to go?” he asked, wide grin spreading over his face once again.

Akaashi tilted his head. “Where are we going?”

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair. Seriously, how messy could someone allow their hair to be before fixing it? “I was just going to give little Tsukishima here a tour of the firm. Show him who’s who and what’s what. You coming?”

Bokuto jumped. Literally. “Of course! A lot of the models are shooting right now, and you know how much I love to watch.” He shot Tsukishima a wink, walking out of his room after Kuroo. Akaashi just shook his head at Bokuto when he saw the blond’s grimace.

Kuroo chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “Bokuto, you’re disgusting,” he said amusedly. Tsukishima followed the rest of them out into the living room, eyes scanning his new roommate and his friends. They all seemed friendly enough, which was part of the problem. Both Kuroo and Bokuto were too lively for Tsukishima’s liking, and they were loud. Akaashi was fine, he was just quiet and pretty. He didn’t mind Akaashi so far, but he was sure that Kuroo and Bokuto would drive him crazy in no time. Give it five minutes.

 ==========================================================================================

Kuroo walked in front of Tsukishima, taking long strides. Kuroo was nearly as tall as Tsukishima, but he held himself like he was taller. Akaashi and Bokuto were at Tsukishima’s side, swinging their linked hands between them. They were walking towards the hallway where the shooting rooms were. “Oikawa should be in here,” Kuroo said, hurrying to a room with flashing lights coming from it.

Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows at Tsukishima. “Oikawa is Kuroo’s boy toy of the week,” he explained.

“I figured as much,” Tsukishima responded, recalling the incident on the couch he’d walked into. Beautiful people flocked together, he supposed.

Akaashi scolded him again. “Don’t say it like that. You know they’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

They stepped into Oikawa’s photoshoot silently. From the moment Tsukishima saw him, he knew Oikawa would be good at his job. He didn’t know, though, that Oikawa would completely stun him. Oikawa was wearing a grey suit, the undershirt unbuttoned enough to show his prominent collarbones. It was fitted to his body perfectly, suit jacket buttoned to accentuate his slim hips. He slid one hand in his slack’s pocket, the other arm hanging loose by his side. He tilted his head down and to the side, just enough to give his cheekbone a shadow. He looked at the camera with narrowed brown eyes, as if he were trying to seduce every man and woman that had looked his way. It would probably work. He adjusted his pose, standing up a bit straighter and turning his head so he could look down the straight slope of his nose. He was a natural, and his talent was obvious.

“Shit, dude, we better get out of here before I get any harder,” Kuroo whispered, urging them back out the door. Tsukishima left, watching Oikawa stretch his bent arms over his head and shoot the camera a knowing smirk. The amount of careless talent Oikawa had pissed Tsukishima off.

Bokuto whistled loudly. “It can only get worse from here, buddy. Suga’s in the next room.” Even Akaashi’s eyebrows raised in interest. Whoever this Suga person was, the rest of them sure seemed to be impressed.

“Well fuck,” Kuroo said. “If I get so hard that I pass out, just have someone give me a handy.” Tsukishima grimaced at his words. Kuroo laughed at his expression, urging the group forward into the next room. A white haired man sat in a chair, adorned in a full face of makeup and half a body of clothing. He wore a long white sweater and visibly nothing else except for a few rings on his fingers and a choker around his neck. He had pink lipgloss over his lips, blush on his round cheeks, and eyeliner so carefully done over his eyelids. He looked like some sort of porcelain doll. He spread his legs teasingly, a hand holding the sweater down between his legs. The camera flashed, and he immediately moved to lean on a hand and cross his legs. Kuroo made some sort of pained noise. Bokuto nodded his head in agreement. The white haired man stood to show the length of the sweater. It looked nice against his white skin, coming down mid-thigh. He slouched his shoulders a bit, hands loose at his sides, and tilted his head, a clueless expression on his face. He was so different from Oikawa, who was all seductive eyes and cocky smirks, but he was just as good. It was refreshing.

“Out,” Kuroo all but wheezed, practically running out of the room.

Akaashi sighed when they were out of the room. “Kuroo really has a thing for legs, if you couldn’t tell.”

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically. “They always put Sugawara in feminine clothes, just because he’s so pretty. Oikawa does formal wear a lot, but he pretty much does everything under the sun. Designers love Oikawa, and he loves the attention.”

Kuroo took a deep breath. “It’s usually not this bad, but I haven’t gotten laid in forever. Plus, my fun times with Oikawa got interrupted before they could actually be considered fun.” He winked at Tsukishima, who grimaced. “Oh, Tsukki, you have such a sour face, you know that?”

“Don’t call me that.” Kuroo was, what could only be described as, an idiot. Sure he was nice, he was sleazy as hell, but above all else, he was an idiot. It was funny, seeing how his brain worked, but Tsukishima was already getting annoyed by he and Bokuto. And the nickname pushed it over the edge.

“Hey, Tsukki, you’re real bitter. Wanna hook up?” Kuroo asked, walking down the hall. He gave a predatory grin in Tsukishima’s direction, turning to wait for an answer by the next door.

Tsukishima wrinkled his nose at the offer. “No thank you. And don’t call me that.”

Kuroo laughed, pushing the door to the other room. “Oh good, it’s bitch boy,” he said, obviously disgusted with whoever bitch boy was.

“This is Daishou Suguru. He and Kuroo have some weird testosterone battle going on, so they hate each other,” Akaashi explained.

Tsukishima stepped inside. There was a thin, pale man standing in the middle of the room, dressed in an all-black suit, making him look even paler than he was. He wasn’t the traditional type of attractive, like Oikawa or Suga, or even Bokuto, but there was something about him that was alluring. Everything about him was thin, to his long, pale fingers in his neat hair, his narrow eyes that held no kindness or emotion, unlike Oikawa’s, to the structure of his thin face. He wasn’t traditionally beautiful, he was actually a bit scary looking, but he was fun to look at. He was so interesting looking, and the all black suit really fit him well. He looked as if he was going to go to a funeral that he had caused. He was a scary sort of beautiful. It intrigued Tsukishima. He didn’t look nice, and his cocky smirk pissed Tsukishima off, but the blond found himself watching his every move. He was aimed sideways to the camera, one hand in his hair, the other tugging on his tie. The only things directed at the camera were his dark eyes.

“Look at that slimy bastard go,” Kuroo hissed. “He thinks he’s so damn attractive.”

Daishou leaned forward to the camera, hands now in pockets and shoulders hunched forward. He still had that mean expression on his thin face, lips pulling down and eyes bored. The camera flashed. He stood, hands in his pockets, and straightened his back for another picture. Tsukishima had a similar body type to this man, all stretched out and half starved. He could learn something from watching him.

“All right, you ready to go, Tsukki?” Kuroo asked, breaking his thought process.

Tsukishima nodded. “I told you not to call me that.” He watched Daishou stretch an arm to the side as he left the room.

“Aw, why not?” Kuroo whined. “It’s cute.”

“It’s annoying,” Tsukishima stated.

“Oh, I think we’re going to get along just fine,” Kuroo snickered, walking down the hallway. “Let’s get some food. Tsukki, it’s on us.”

“If you keep calling me that I’m just going to go back to the room,” Tsukishima warned. He wanted to be alone anyway. It was nice of these people to show him around and offer to buy him food, but Kuroo was obnoxious and sex-crazed, and Bokuto was so bouncy and loud, gasping and laughing at nearly everything he saw. Tsukishima wasn’t sure what he found so exciting, but he was certain he’d never been that excited about anything in his life.

“Kuroo, don’t harass him,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto hopped along beside them. “Man, I’m so hungry! Kuroo, you always know what’s on my mind.”

Kuroo laughed, looking at his friend adoringly. “That’s because you’re my best friend, dude.”

Bokuto gasped, wide eyed. “I am?”

Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s arm, fingers pressing into his bicep. “Bo, quiet down a bit. What do you want to eat?” To which Bokuto got even more excited, literally jumping through the halls, towards food. He started talking about all kinds of food, and Akaashi seemed to be listening. Tsukishima didn’t understand how he did it.

They walked into the food court, where most of the models hung out, sitting at tables and talking to one another. Tsukishima had never seen so many beautiful people gathered in one place, but he was glad he had now.

“So,” Kuroo said as they joined a line for sushi. “Are you sure you don’t want to hook up? I’m free tomorrow.” He winked.

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, studying the smirk Kuroo had plastered onto his face. “I’m sure.”


	2. Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something catches Kuroo's eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten thousands years later and I decide to update. So sorry about being late, I'm an asshole. Enjoy!

Kuroo hummed, kissing at the milky white of Oikawa’s throat. His fingers were slick with lube, sliding against Oikawa’s thigh. The brunette had his fingers tangled in Kuroo’s messy black hair, like he always seemed to, pulling him impossibly closer. He was straddling his lap, strong thighs warm against Kuroo’s own.

“Ah, Kuroo—” Oikawa gasped, Kuroo’s finger pressing against his entrance.

Kuroo bit his neck lightly and pulled off of him. “I thought it was Tetsu-chan?” he teased, sliding his finger all the way into Oikawa.

“Ah,” Oikawa gasped, “Only when I’m thinking about it. I can’t just call you that when we’re— hah— when we’re fucking.” He ground his hips down onto that single finger of Kuroo’s, whimpering at the contact.

Kuroo pressed his face against Oikawa’s neck, breathing in his scent. “So it’s only for show?” He fingered Oikawa until it was comfortable, adding a second finger with a repressed growl. Oikawa was hot, and the pained moans he gave weren’t making Kuroo any softer.

Oikawa smiled, looking down at Kuroo. “You know I like messing with people. And that new blond is— mmm— interesting.” He slid his fingers down Kuroo’s head, down his neck, so he could rest his long arms on Kuroo’s shoulders. “He didn’t seem like any fun. I don’t think I’ll like him very much.”

Kuroo chuckled, wrapping his other hand around Oikawa’s length. He stroked him, watching Oikawa’s eyelids flutter from so much contact. “I think you’d be a bit much for his taste. He’s a nice kid, though. Real pretty.” He kissed Oikawa on the lips, rough enough for their teeth to press together. Oikawa kissed him back, teeth tugging on his lip and tongue sweeping over the inside of his mouth. As he kissed Oikawa, he added a third finger, swallowing the whimpers he gave at the stretch.

The brunette sat forward on his knees, much taller than Kuroo, and broke away from the kiss. His hand shifted forward to grab Kuroo’s jaw. “I’m real pretty,” Oikawa sneered, holding Kuroo’s face in place so he could look at him, brown eyes narrowed and pink lips curved up into a vicious sneer.

Kuroo pulled his fingers out of Oikawa. He threw him back, onto Oikawa’s living room floor, and crawled to face him, arms on either side of him, a knee between his legs. “Oh, baby,” Kuroo mocked, a grin spread wide on his face, “don’t be jealous. I’m not fucking him, am I?” He started to suck a hickey into Oikawa’s neck, only to get roughly pushed off.

Oikawa wrapped his long legs around Kuroo’s waist, pressing their bodies together. “It doesn’t look like you’re fucking me either,” he smirked.

Kuroo’s grin spread wider on his face. “Hold that thought,” he said, sitting up to grab the condom from the coffee table. He watched Oikawa on the floor, eager to get started. His knees were up, legs bent in, giving Kuroo the nicest view. He looked completely fucked already, hair messy and lips red from kissing. There were small bruises starting to form across his chest, on his thighs, and on his neck. Oikawa was going to kill him for that later. Not to mention the bite mark on his inner thigh and his ribcage.

Kuroo rolled the condom on, wasting no time. “Get on the couch unless you want rug burn.”

Oikawa scrambled up, laying on his back with his legs spread. “Be gentle with me, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa whimpered in mock worry. He and Kuroo both knew he was anything but a virgin.

Kuroo got onto the couch, leaning over Oikawa’s pale, naked body. He pressed the head of his cock to Oikawa’s entrance, grinning down at him. “Never,” he growled, thrusting all the way into Oikawa with one big thrust. Oikawa practically screamed, eyes rolling back into his head and fingers coming up to scrape down Kuroo’s back. Kuroo had to stop to control his breathing because good lord Oikawa felt good. They fucked weekly, if not daily, but Oikawa never failed to make him almost bust as soon as he got in. He felt ridiculous, wanting to come as soon as he started fucking Oikawa, but he felt so damn good all the time.

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, holding himself up over Oikawa with his arms.  
Oikawa looked up at him with big brown eyes, hands snaked around Kuroo’s body to dig his fingers into the flesh of Kuroo’s back. “Fucking move,” Oikawa moaned, wriggling his hips down against Kuroo’s thighs, grinding the darker haired boy’s cock into him. Kuroo growled at the sensation, moving a hand down to press on Oikawa’s chest.

“Do you want me to last or not?” he growled through his teeth. Oikawa just laughed, wiggling his hips again. Kuroo sat up on his knees, eyes studying the rise and fall of Oikawa’s chest as he inhaled and exhaled. “Oikawa. You know it’s been a while, so stop moving so much if you ever want to have sex with me again.” He pulled back slowly, loving the roll of Oikawa’s eyes into his head. He shifted his hips forward until he was completely buried in the brunette. Oikawa couldn’t help but drag his fingers slowly down Kuroo’s muscular back.

Oikawa moaned as he pressed into him again. He gave another breathy laugh, batting his eyelashes at Kuroo. “It’s only been two days,” he pointed out. He leaned up on his elbows to kiss Kuroo, sliding his tongue over Kuroo’s bottom lip and pulling at the skin with his teeth.

Kuroo chuckled against Oikawa’s mouth, biting his lower lip hard enough to make the brunette whimper. He pulled away with a grin on his face. “You know me well enough to know that two days without sex is far too long.” Oikawa shrugged, a smirk on his face. “You also know that you got me worked up earlier today before Tsukki walked in on us.”

“I do what I can,” Oikawa winked. Kuroo thrust into him again, harder this time. He just had to pace himself if he wanted to last. “Wait— ah— he has a nickname already and I don’t?” A hand slid up Kuroo’s back to tangle in his hair, Kuroo’s eyes wandering down to where his cock was stretching Oikawa open.

Kuroo leaned down to press kisses into Oikawa’s neck and chest, tracing his tongue over the smooth skin there. “You have a lot of nicknames, pretty boy. I can’t settle on just one.” Fingers trailed down Oikawa’s abdomen to wrap around his length, earning a whimper from him. He stroked him slowly, in time with his thrusts, running his thumb over the head and against the ridge.

“Like what?”

Kuroo chuckled, watching Oikawa’s pale body squirm beneath his own. He got closer to Oikawa’s face, close enough to feel Oikawa’s breath hot against his cheek. “There are a few,” he hummed. “For example, you really seem to enjoy when I call you whore.” Oikawa whimpered, biting his own lip. Kuroo sped up his hand, along with his thrusts. He loved seeing Oikawa fall apart because of him. “Or slut. You even like bitch, depending on what mood you’re in.” Kuroo bit his neck, hard enough to know that there would be a mark later. Oikawa was squeezing his eyes shut, rocking into the couch with every movement the darker haired boy made. His teeth were digging into his lower lip, fingers into Kuroo’s back. Kuroo knew he liked being handled like this. He liked the rough physicality of the way Kuroo fucked him, and he liked the praising tone of Kuroo’s voice. He said it balanced the sex out so it was almost perfect. Kuroo just had a lot of fun fucking him. “Baby,” Kuroo breathed against Oikawa’s neck. “Pretty boy.”

“Kuroo— ah, fuck,” Oikawa moaned, tugging Kuroo closer to him by the fingers tangled in his messy black hair. His lips were parted, turned red from all the kissing and biting. His hair was a mess, no longer in that perfect style he always required. His eyes were closed, expression peaceful as Kuroo pounded into him.

Kuroo placed a light kiss on his swollen lips. “Are you going to come for me, baby?” He cooed, pumping his hand over Oikawa’s cock faster, thrusting into him just right, making the pretty brunette arch his back up off the couch.

Oikawa nodded quickly, bucking his hips up into Kuroo’s touch. The darker haired boy thrusted into him, hitting sensitive nerves as he pumped over his leaking cock, using his precome to speed up his movements.

Kuroo leaned down to kiss Oikawa, talking against his lips. “Come for me, Oikawa.”

========================================================================================

Kuroo woke up in his own bed, surprisingly enough. He didn’t remember walking back to his room after fucking Oikawa, but he must have. He was laying under the covers, burrowed into his bed, when Bokuto burst in his room, loud as ever.

“Bro, get up! Akaashi and Tsukishima are about to go to the makeup room and I thought you’d want to watch.” Kuroo opened one eye, shifting it to his best friend, who was bouncing in place.

Kuroo rolled over in his bed and rubbed a hand against his face. “I guess.” He sat up, checking his phone for messages. They were mostly from Bokuto, not to Kuroo’s surprise. Bokuto loved to text Kuroo about random stuff no one cared about.

“Dude,” Bokuto laughed. “You might want to look in a mirror.”

Kuroo slumped out of bed, into his bathroom, and glared at his reflection. He had hickeys everywhere, from his hipbones to his chest, and up to his neck. Oikawa had really gotten him good. His makeup artists were going to kill him for this one. His hair was messier than usual—yes, that was possible—and Kuroo was less than pleased about it. Damn Oikawa just had to get his fingers tangled in everything. Kuroo could only imagine how fucked up Oikawa looked. Kuroo knew he’d left more than a few good marks on Oikawa. He couldn’t wait to see them.

Akaashi popped his head in the bathroom to look at Bokuto. “Are you ready to go?”

Bokuto bounced. “Almost. Kuroo needs to get clothes on but then we’ll be ready.” Akaashi nodded, starting to walk away. “Hold up, come here,” the white haired boy said, moving to grab Akaashi around the waist. “I wanna love you real quick.” He kissed Akaashi on the mouth, holding his tight against his body. Akaashi leaned his head back to kiss his boyfriend back.

“Gross,” Kuroo said, pushing Bokuto out of the way to go back into his room. He threw some clothes on, grinning down at the hickeys spotting his flesh. He walked into his living room, where Tsukishima was sitting on the couch, as pretty as ever. He was wearing plain clothes, ready to get changed into whatever clothes the designers decided to put him into. His blond hair was messier than it had been the previous day, as if he hadn’t bothered with fully taming his bedhead. Kuroo couldn’t say he didn’t understand that feeling. “Hey Tsukki,” Kuroo started, leaning against the arm of the couch. “You’re looking fine as usual. I love the bedhead.”

Tsukishima looked up at him with bitter gold eyes. “I wish I could say the same for you.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a mocking smirk.

Kuroo grinned widely, leaning closer to the blond’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, eyes staring at Kuroo’s face. His eyes flickered down to Kuroo’s neck, undoubtedly to a hickey, then back up to his face just as quickly as they had left it. “I’m afraid bedhead doesn’t appeal to me.”

Kuroo was close enough to see that Tsukishima really did have a perfect face. His eyes were gold and narrow, blond eyebrows arching high and condescending. High cheekbones complimented the sharp angle of his jawline and eyebrows. His nose was straight, pointed and slender, as were the rest of his features. He was all crisp lines and sharp angles. His lips were the perfect shade of pink, his skin a milky white. Kuroo was amazed by his perfect proportions. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Tsukishima’s lip curled up into a sneer. “Not at all.”

Akaashi and Bokuto walked into the living room, hands intertwined. “Are you ready to go, Kuroo?” the darker haired boy asked. He was dressed similarly to Tsukishima, and just as pretty.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Kuroo said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted up from his waist, and he could feel Tsukishima’s gaze there. Kuroo winked at Tsukishima, who looked away with a disgusted sneer. “Jealous?” Kuroo teased, walking out the door. He threw a grin in Tsukishima’s direction.

The blond pushed his glasses up his nose. “Not at all.”

#######

Tsukishima was getting his makeup done. The stylists had already put foundation on him, dabbing at his face with a soft sponge. His glasses were on the counter in front of him, so he couldn’t see much, but he knew Kuroo was standing beside him, grinning down at his face with that odd, Cheshire grin. There were hands in his hair, styling the hair he’d been too hasty to deal with this morning. A finger tilted his head back, a mascara brush coming up to brush at his eyelashes as a pencil filled in his eyebrows. A finger smeared balm over his lips. He’d never had his makeup done before, but so far it wasn’t too bad. There were so many pairs of hands on him that he lost count, but he didn’t mind it. The only things he really minded were Kuroo’s predatory eyes on him.

He didn’t understand Kuroo’s taunting nature. Tsukishima was the type of person to mock people, and send condescending snickers in their direction, but Kuroo was persistent about his taunting. He didn’t seem to think it was funny, like Tsukishima did when he was mocking someone, he just seemed to enjoy it. He bothered the blond about sleeping with him on the first day they met, and then today he seemed to be making a show of the dark spots littering his skin, insisting that Tsukishima found him attractive. Of course he found him attractive—he was a model. They were all models, and they were all very attractive ones at that. But Kuroo’s insisting was weird. Tsukishima didn’t understand Kuroo’s personality at all. He was nice, but he was predatory to say the least, and the whole Oikawa thing didn’t make any sense to him. He’d heard Kuroo come back to their room late last night, sounding very pleased with himself. Nothing about his personality made any sense to Tsukishima.

“How do you like getting your makeup done?” Kuroo asked, his figure shifting next to the blond.

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima said, turning his head for the stylist to brush powder against his cheek. He could see Kuroo’s legs from here, casually crossed. He raised his eyes, taking in the rest of Kuroo’s stature. His arms were crossed, back leaning against the wall to Tsukishima’s left. He could still see the hickeys on his neck, regardless of his lack of glasses. He quickly averted his eyes back to the floor.

Kuroo shifted again. “Makeup has always been Bokuto’s least favourite part. He can’t sit still for that long.” He chuckled, “I can’t say I blame him. Something that close to my eye really wigs me out. You and Akaashi, on the other hand, take it like champs. Akaashi was practically born to wear makeup.”

That made sense. Bokuto was the most hyperactive person Tsukishima had ever met, unlike Akaashi. They balanced each other out.

“Thanks, Kuroo,” Akaashi said from the other side of Tsukishima, where he was next instructed to turn his head. Akaashi did look gorgeous, and he was wearing the same amount of makeup as Tsukishima. Maybe it was because he had dark hair. It made his skin look paler and his eyes look more vibrant.

“Course.”

Tsukishima was certain he didn’t look that pretty. He looked fine, of course, but not pretty. He had a mean face, and a mean expression, which really took away from the beautiful aspect of everything. Not that he minded. The meaner he looked, the less likely people were to try and talk to him. No, he didn’t mind it at all.

“You look nice, Tsukishima,” Akaashi said, peering at himself in the mirror.

“Thank you,” the blond said. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror yet, but he didn’t really care enough to do so. This was just about business and money, he didn’t need to indulge in vanity.

Kuroo chuckled. “You really do, Tsukki. If you ever want to bang, I’m always here.” He winked at the blond, earning himself an eyeroll. There was that odd, predatory flirting again. Tsukishima just didn’t understand it.

He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head up in the slightest to look down at Kuroo. “I’m not even remotely interested.” They headed out of the makeup room to go meet the designers for the actual shoot. Akaashi walked next to him, practically gliding across the floor.

“You know, Tsukki—”

“Don’t call me that.” Tsukishima hate nicknames. Especially when someone he hardly knew was calling him by them. He and Kuroo couldn’t qualify as friends, and Tsukishima didn’t want to. Nicknames were not permitted.

“You know, you’re kind of bitter for someone so pretty and young,” Kuroo finished, disregarding Tsukishima’s words. “How do you do it? Youths are so funny.” He chuckled.

Akaashi shot a look in Kuroo’s direction as they walked through the shooting room. “You’re hardly much older than me. How old are you Tsukishima?”

Designers rushed around he and Akaashi, throwing clothes at them in a hurry. They quickly undressed, putting the all black clothing on. “I’m nineteen,” Tsukishima said. He and Akaashi were in matching sweatpants, a quote from Ghandi running down the leg. Akaashi wore a hoodie with the company’s logo taking up the majority of the front. Tsukishima was in a tight-fitting black t-shirt with the same logo on it. The clothing was nothing spectacular, but for a first professional shoot, it wasn’t awful.

Akaashi adjusted the sleeves on his hoodie, looking at the blond. “I’m nineteen too. I’ve been modeling since I was sixteen.”

Tsukishima was ushered in front of a plain white wall. There were lights hanging from the ceiling, a camera in front of him. The designer watched him with wary eyes. “Let’s get a few individual shots of the both of you, and then we can get to the fun stuff. I’m just trying to sell clothing here, nothing too extravagant. Let’s get started.” Tsukishima stood up straight, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. He could see Kuroo shift in his peripheral vision. The camera flashed, and he immediately moved into another pose. He stood with his legs spread, arms stretched high above his head. _Flash_. He moved again. “Alright, that’s good for now,” the designer said. He motioned to Akaashi. “You, get over here for a few individual shots.” Akaashi walked over to where Tsukishima was standing, so the blond traded him places, reluctantly standing next to Kuroo.

Akaashi had obviously been modeling for a while. He looked like he wasn’t even trying, with his hands gripping the sides of the hood, pulling it around his face. “He’s good, isn’t he?” Kuroo said quietly, leaning closer to the taller man.

“Well yeah, he’s been doing it for three years.”

“You’re good too, you know?” Kuroo said, tilting his head. He really did have a nice face, and Tsukishima hated him for it. He was totally and completely proportional, from his narrow eyes, to the upward curve of a smirk on his lips. It was no surprise that he slept around a lot, with how attractive he was.

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows at the darker haired man. “Is this your poor attempt of flirting?” he teased.

Kuroo shook his head and chuckled. “Not at all, actually. I just think you have a lot of talent and potential.” He slapped Tsukishima on the back. “You’re going to make a lot of people jealous in this frim, you know that, right?”

“Like who?”

Kuroo shifted onto his other foot, tugging on his messy bangs. “Well, don’t tell him I told you, but I think Oikawa feels threatened by you.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak, but the designer called him over. Kuroo just smiled at him. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Do you want to get food later tonight? On me.” He was stupidly attractive. It irritated Tsukishima to no end, but he was interested in making people jealous. Plus, he didn’t understand anything about Oikawa, so it'd be a good idea to hear about him. If he knew what he was doing to make people feel threatened, he could learn what he was doing right.

“Sure.” The designer had he and Akaashi pose next to each other, staring down at the camera and showing off their brand-name clothing. Tsukishima rested his wrist on Akaashi’s shoulder, the other arm hanging limp at his side. Akaashi had his hood up, eyes piercing the camera and contrasting with his smooth pale skin.

“Hey, can you take your shirt off?” The designer asked Tsukishima, nodding at him. He could hear Kuroo whistle through his teeth, forcing him to repress an eyeroll. He nodded, slipping his shirt off over his head and handing it to one of the assistants nearby. He rolled his shoulders in for the next shot, making him look even more grotesquely starved than he already did. “Perfect, give me more of that, both of you,” the designer hummed, camera flashing once again. They both moved into their next pose, the blond practically bending his torso in half and tilting his head way up to look down at the camera, Akaashi turning his head to the side, his eyes staying on the camera. Akaashi moved to compliment Tsukishima’s pose. He was good.

#========================================================================================

Kuroo spent the next hour watching Tsukishima and Akaashi pose for the camera, bodies twisting and folding in order to get the perfect shot. He stayed to watch, Bokuto eventually joining him excitedly. They stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, and eyes glued to the other models. Tsukishima kept glancing in his direction, eyes wary of the darker haired male.

Kuroo was fairly certain he wanted the blond. He was attractive as hell, of course, but there was something else that he didn’t quite understand. He’d only known the kid for a day, but he was so much different than anyone else he’d ever met. For one, he hadn’t immediately wanted to have sex with Kuroo. That was quite the surprise. Usually people jumped at the thought of even having a chance with Kuroo, much less getting offers from Kuroo himself. Tsukishima had more or less sneered at his offer, in the several times he’d brought it up. Kuroo was most definitely not used to that type of behavior, and it intrigued him.

Yeah, he was technically with Oikawa, but that didn’t matter. They hadn’t officially put a label on their relationship yet, and so far they were just having casual sex. Kuroo was sure that Oikawa would get jealous of Tsukishima; he already felt threatened, and he would hate him even more if Kuroo suddenly started going after him. But that was Kuroo’s choice, wasn’t it? If he wanted to try to seduce Tsukishima for the fun of it, that was choice, and if Oikawa got mad, he’d just explain it to him. He wanted the challenge of trying to get with Tsukishima. He was too used to everything being too easy for him. He needed to try. He needed to see how far he could get while actually attempting to get far.

Bokuto leaned over to him, eyes glued to the other models, lips close to Kuroo’s ear. “You’re thinking about hitting that, aren’t you?” Bokuto asked, a smile on his face.

Kuroo laughed quietly. “It’s that obvious?”

The white-haired man shrugged. “Maybe not to anyone else, but you were doing that thing again. I just know you well enough, I guess, bro.”

“What thing? I do several things, dude.”

Bokuto watched Akaashi with wide eyes as he squatted down in front of Tsukishima, looking at the camera with parted lips and half-lidded eyes. “You’re looking at the new kid as if you want to eat him alive.” He inhaled sharply. "Kind of similar to the way Akaashi is looking at that camera right now." Then, whispered to himself: "I am so getting laid tonight."

"Bo, you get laid every night. You two are models," Kuroo laughed, shaking his head. "And I think that's just my face, dude."

"Not like usual. It's way worse when you want to get into someone's pants," Bokuto explained. "I can just tell, dude. I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You know Oikawa's going to be pissed, right?"

Bokuto really did know him well. "I know. We're not dating, though, so he doesn't have a reason to get mad." He sighed.

"Yeah, but you know how Oikawa is. To him, you two are probably practically dating. You pretty much belong to him, at this point." Bokuto's eyes were scanning over his boyfriend, as if he needed to memorize every detail so he could draw him from memory. Or like he was a meal Bokuto planned to eat in the dark. The latter was probably more accurate.

"I shouldn't. I'm taking Tsukishima to dinner tonight and I'm hoping to God that Oikawa doesn't find out. I still need sex, believe it or not." Kuroo like Oikawa just fine. If he didn't, he wouldn't be having sex with him. But he couldn't just stay with one person for so long; he needed variety. He wasn't cheating on Oikawa. They had an open relationship. He figured Oikawa would be having sex with other people as well. That was the point of their relationship. It's why they were so compatible. Oikawa was cute and likeable, but Kuroo wasn't sure either of them wanted a stable, labeled relationship. From what he knew about the both of them, it wasn't either of their things. It wouldn't work out. Casual sex was the way to go.

"Alright, get changed out of those clothes and you're good to go," the designer said to Tsukishima and Akaashi. The two nodded politely and started stripping their clothes off. Kuroo and Bokuto were completely still, watching the other two undress.

Tsukishima was all thin lines and pale colours, pared with angular features and deep shadows. His spine was a long curve, back covered with pale skin, so light he could've passed for paper, if he'd wanted to. His arms were just as long, in proportion, slender, but muscular, like the rest of his body. Long fingers ran through pale blond hair, fixing the soft curls and putting them into place. Tsukishima's cheekbones cast their own shadow over his pale face, making his face look sharp and angular, especially with his pointy, straight nose. His hipbones and shoulder blades were equally as angular, casting shadows over his lithe body. The sharpness of his features contrasted with the softness of his colours, creating a dichotomy of beauty. His eyes were a deep, warm honey colour, framed with golden eyelashes, under high-arching and well-kept eyebrows. His eyebrows made him look angrier than he already did, with how arched they were. He looked like he was always glaring at something, with his narrow eyes and unimpressed expression.

He was pretty as hell.

And god, those legs. They killed Kuroo, in the truest way possible. He had a weakness for legs anyway (ie. Suga and Oikawa), but Tsukishima's legs seemed to go on for miles, pale muscular, and hairless. Kuroo didn't quite understand how a man could be blessed with such extraordinary legs, but he wasn't complaining. What he would give to see those legs thrown over his shoulders.

Akaashi interrupted his train of thoughts by walking up to Bokuto and kissing his cheek. He looked to Kuroo. "Are you okay there, Kuroo?" he asked, lacing his pale fingers with Bokuto's thick ones.

Kuroo shook hoods head in an attempt to clear his head of all thoughts of Tsukishima's legs. Was he hard? "I'm good. Just hungry. You ready to go, Tsukki?" he called across the room. He was a little hard. Well, everyone has to sport a strong half-chub at least once in their modeling career. This was his time, he supposed.

Tsukishima walked over to them, fully dressed, a light scowl etched onto his pretty face. "It's not even remotely time for dinner yet," he pointed out.

"Oh well. Model-time is a few hours early. Just like gay time is a few hours late." They started out the door of the shooting room.

Bokuto sorted loudly. "Wouldn't that make you right on time, then?" he teased from in front of the darker haired man. Akaashi smiled at his boyfriend's joke, looking up at him adoringly.

"I've had sex with women," Kuroo reminded, earning an 'ew' from both Bokuto and Akaashi. Tsukishima stayed silent. "That balances it out. If I hadn't done that, we'd have eaten dinner hours ago."

"I don't understand any of this," Tsukishima sighed.

"You don't have to, cutie. You'll learn to understand it soon enough. As your roommate, it's my job to teach you everything you need to know." Another snort from Bokuto.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at the shorter man, shooting daggers into his heart. "Don't call me that," he said.

"Oh, Tsukki, what am I supposed to call you?" He enjoyed getting a rise out of people.

"Not that."

"Okay, babe."

"Not that either." 

"You're so bitter."

"Shut up and take me to dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot begins, my dudes.


	3. Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten and a half years later I update this piece of crap<3333
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the beginning to the central plot!

Kuroo certainly had a different idea about food than Tsukishima did. Tsukishima was expecting him to go to some takeout place with greasy food and a cheap menu. Kuroo, apparently, didn’t believe in eating anywhere but cozy restaurants with expensive food and dim lighting.

They were sipping their drinks, Kuroo hitting on each and every one of the waiters, Tsukishima observing in silence. The darker haired man turned back to Tsukishima with a grin on his face, from flirting with a waitress. “So,” the blond started, “are you going to tell me about Oikawa or not?”

Kuroo chuckled. “With time, dear Tsukki. Just enjoy your free drink for now.” He winked, causing Tsukishima to grimace.

“Don’t call me that,” Tsukishima sighed, rolling his eyes. Tsukishima was hoping to god that him finding Kuroo attractive was him being delusional, or a sign that he was dying or something. Because when Kuroo blinked, he couldn’t help but notice the details in of his long, inky black eyelashes framing his eyes that had Tsukishima praying and cursing to every god of modeling out there. “And I came here to hear about Ace’s models. Not to watch you flirt with waitresses.” He wanted to know how his competition was, so he could do what he needed to do to thrive. The better model he was, the more he’d get paid. That’s what he cared about.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes in amusement, his grin widening. “Oho, getting jealous, Tsukki?” HE leaned over the table, eyebrows raised at the blond.

“Not at all,” Tsukishima deadpanned, tilting his head back so he could look at Kuroo down the bridge of his nose. “It’s just inconvenient timing.”

Kuroo was annoying. He looked like someone everybody wanted to sleep with, and he sure as hell acted like he knew it. He was cocky, in a flirtatious way, which only made him obnoxious. And Tsukishima hated obnoxious people.

“Who do you want to hear about first?” Kuroo asked. “I’ve pretty much slept with everybody, so I know everything there is to know about everyone.”

The taller man wrinkled his nose. “That sounds unsafe.”

“I’m safe about it,” Kuroo shrugged.

“Too much information.” He could honestly say that he couldn’t care less about Kuroo’s sex life. “Anyway, tell me about Oikawa.” Oikawa seemed like the biggest threat. He remembered that stupid, childish way Oikawa had tried to get under his skin, and it pissed him off. What was more important, though, was how good he was at modeling. He was fantastic, to the point that it didn’t even seem real, and it pissed Tsukishima off.

Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head. “Oikawa’s an odd one, I’ll give you that. He pretends to be a perfect human being, and even though he looks like one, he’s far from being one. He’s afraid of admitting his flaws, but he’s really not as bad as he seems. He just did what he did because he likes to try to establish dominance by intimidating new models.”

“I wasn’t intimidated.”

“I know, and he really didn’t like it. He’s insecure about it, so he got jealous of you really quickly.”

“Why would he have any reason to be jealous of me?” Tsukishima was an amateur, at best. He’d only started at Ace yesterday, and so far he’d had one shoot. He knew for a fact that Oikawa was one of the most popular models at Ace, and he guessed he was probably just as popular in all of Japan. Just because he was taller than anyone else he’d seen so far, didn’t mean he was tough competition to beat. He intended to be, but he wasn’t there yet. And if he didn’t get there, he wouldn’t care that much. His lack of serious motivation made it hard for him to be a threat, especially to someone as talented as Oikawa.

“He thinks someone’s going to steal his bravado, or something. It didn’t help that I find you attractive. He gets possessive. All I know is that he brought it up last night when we were ‘getting busy.’” Kuroo made finger quotes and everything. “He was very lowkey about it, but I know how Oikawa is when he gets jealous.”

“Oikawa brought me up during sex.”

“Well yeah, he said you seem interesting and he didn’t think he’d like you very much.” Kuroo shrugged, “I told him that you’re real pretty and probably wouldn’t like him either.”

“You’re correct about that, at least.” He already didn’t like Oikawa. “I think it’s weird that you two talked about me while having sex, though.”

“It’s just what we do. Who else do you want to hear about?”

“I don’t know. Just tell me about anyone.” Tsukishima didn’t know enough people yet to really want to hear about them. He’d only known about Oikawa because he was a threat, and annoyingly so.

Their waitress came to their table, smiling bashfully at Kuroo and playing with her hair. They ordered their food, Kuroo giving her a wink while he did it. Tsukishima loathed these annoyingly flirtatious details.

In all honesty, Tsukishima wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Kuroo. Then again, he’d only known him for about a day. He found him obnoxious and annoying, but overall he wasn’t too bad, Tsukishima supposed. He didn’t totally hate him yet, which was a new feeling.

“I’ll just start with the basics, but I won’t get into details. Bokuto is loud and outrageously happy, when he’d not being moody, and Akaashi balances him out perfectly. They also give me my monthly dose of PDA within a few minutes, but they’re my best friends and I love them. Suga looks sweet and innocent—and he is sweet; he’s actually one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, but I’ve had sex with him enough times to know that he is not innocent in the least. Oh, we’re all pretty sure that Ukai and Takeda—your manager and agent—are banging, if not dating. And Daishou is a snake and I hate him.”

“Is that all?” Tsukishima had more interest in Daishou, but he wasn’t up to hearing Kuroo’s life story. He could find out about this so called ‘snake’ on his own. In fact, he looked forward to it. Daishou was by far, one of the most interesting-looking people Tsukishima had ever seen. He had a unique look and style about him. Tsukishima wouldn’t go so far as to say that he was intrigued, but he was pretty damn close to it.

“That’s everyone I know you’ve met so far.”

The waitress arrived with their food, setting their plates down in front of them. Kuroo ordered some sort of mackerel dish, Tsukishima sticking to noodles and sautéed vegetables.

“What about you?” Tsukishima asked between bites.

Kuroo set his chopsticks down on the side of the plate, thinking for a moment. “My bestfriend isn’t a model, and he owns four cats, all named after videogame characters. My favourite food is grilled mackerel, and my favourite animal is a black panther. I’m also attracted to nearly everyone who works at Ace.”

“Makes sense. Are you and Oikawa dating, then?”

Kuroo grinned, showing his stupidly perfect teeth. “Not really. We aren’t labeling anything, but we are sleeping together.” He stuffed what was probably half of the mackerel into his mouth.

“I knew that last part,” Tsukishima grimaced. All he could see was Oikawa straddling Kuroo’s hips, at smiling condescendingly.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever like anyone at Ace, due to who he was as a person, but as far as he was concerned, he didn’t hate Kuroo. He’d give it time, though.

 

By the time they’d finished their meal, it was dark outside. Kuroo had talked quite a bit more, about anything and everything, leaving the taller man to listen in silence and respond accordingly.

A tall figure loomed over them, standing at the end of their table. Large brown eyes looked down at them without any kindness. “Ah, Tetsu, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you in here tonight,” the voice practically sang, a perfect smile too sweet to be genuine.

“Hey, Oikawa. What’s up?” Kuroo slouched in his seat, head tilting up at Oikawa.

“Who’s your blond friend here?” he asked, eyes wide enough to make him look insane. He smiled a tight-lipped smile. As if he didn’t recognize Tsukishima from when he walked in on them making out. Pompous asshole.

Kuroo smiled back at him, going along with the brunet’s words. “This is my new roommate, Tsukishima. He just got contracted with Ace.”

Tsukishima looked at Oikawa, lips drawn down and face pulled into a scowl. Oikawa curled his upper lip in, eyes studying the blond. “How interesting,” Oikawa sneered. “I’ll see you later, Tetsurou.” He glanced down a Kuroo again, and turned quickly to walk away.

Kuroo groaned.

========================================================================================  
“Fuck,” Kuroo grumbled on the way back to their room. “Oikawa is going to kill me.” Tsukishima didn’t say anything, just kept walking next to him. “When we get back to the rooms I’m going to have to go to his room. Sorry about that.” Kuroo tugged on his bangs, looking up through them.

“I don’t care where you go,” the taller man said, taking long strides.

“Whatever you say, Tsukki,” Kuroo smiles.

The blond sighed. “Would you stop calling me that, already?”

The darker haired man shook his head. “What am I supposed to call you then, oh bitter one?”

Streetlights cast shadows down on Kuroo’s face, accentuating his high cheekbones and masculine jawline. Tsukishima forced himself to look away from Kuroo’s face. “Just call me by my name.”

Kuroo raised an arched eyebrow. “Alright, Kei.”

Nope. That would not do. Tsukishima hardly ever got called by his given name, so when he did, it temporarily topped his oxygen flow. He narrowed his eyes. “Tsukishima.”

“Calling you Tsukishima feels so weird and boring, though,” Kuroo complained. “Like we’re not even friends.”

“We aren’t.”

“Ouch,” Kuroo laughed. “You’re sort of mean, you know that?”

The blond smirked. “You’re sort of an idiot, you know that?”

“You’d be surprised. So, what? Why aren’t we friends, Tsukki?”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes. “Well, for one, you keep calling me that.” Kuroo laughed obnoxiously loudly. “And for two, I’ve only known you for a day. We hardly know anything about each other.”

They were stopped, standing in front of the rooming complex now. Tsukishima hadn’t realized how far out the restaurant had been. When he looked at Kuroo, he noticed that the older man had been staring at him. Kuroo stepped forward, tilting his head.

“If we give it a little longer, do you think we could be friends?” Kuroo was standing right in front of him, as if the discussion they were having was very important.

The blond frowned. “We’ll see.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Tsukishima wasn’t sure he’d heard Kuroo correctly. He knew Kuroo talked about sleeping with him, but he didn’t think he’d do something this ridiculous.

His chin was tilted up with a finger, Kuroo quickly closing the distance between them. He could feel Kuroo’s breath against his skin, and see the details in Kuroo’s face. He could make out the gold flecks in his black eyes, and the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip. Lips brushed his and he took a panicked step back. Kuroo looked confused. “You should go talk to Oikawa,” he rushed.

Kuroo tilted his head, studying Tsukishima’s face. “Yeah.”

#####

Kuroo knocked on Oikawa’s door, standing outside patiently. The door was opened by Oikawa, who was dressed in alien-print silk pajamas. “Oh, Kuroo. It's you.” He sounded as unenthusiastic as Kuroo had ever heard him. He stepped back to let Kuroo inside.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around, as if there was something in Oikawa's house he hadn't seen before. He practically had the place memorized, with how often he’d been over.

“Oh, I don't know,” Oikawa hummed. “I was thinking about taking one of Ace’s newbies on a date to some little cozy, dimly lit restaurant.

“You're mad about that?” Kuroo sighed, facing the brunet.

Oikawa looked at him as if he was stupid. Maybe he was. “Of course I'm mad about that.”

“I can take you out too, if you want.”

Oikawa's lower lip jutted out into a pout. “I hate how he got to go out with you before I did. That makes me hate him.”

“We didn't ‘go out.’ He wanted to know more about Ace, so I pushed him into letting me buy him dinner so we could actually talk. I thought you and I were just having casual sex, anyway?”

“I don't really want to do that anymore.” Oikawa sat on the edge of the couch, clasping his hands in his lap.

Kuroo sighed. “Alright.”

“Because I kind of like you.”

“Alright-- wait, you what?” Kuroo was not expecting this conservation to go this way.

Oikawa huffed. “I like you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. “So, you want to go official, or what?”

The brunet grabbed the darker haired man's wrist, pulling him onto the couch next to him. Kuroo was so close, he could see each individual eyelash, completely tangle free. Seriously. Even his eyelashes were flawless. “Yeah,” Oikawa breathed, then pulled him closer so their lips met. Kuroo smiled into the kiss, letting Oikawa push his tongue into his mouth, across the roof of his mouth. They were kissing slowly, Oikawa skilfully using his tongue and sliding his hands up Kuroo's biceps and shoulders, so he could lose his fingers in Kuroo's hair. Kuroo was sucking on the brunet’s lower lip, rough hands brushing the soft skin of Oikawa's sides under his shirt.

It didn't seem like a bad idea to Kuroo to start dating Oikawa. He supposed he liked Oikawa back, and they were both horny as hell, so what could go wrong?

“So,” Kuroo grinned, pulling away. “You’re alright with the idea of being official?”

Oikawa's looked up at him with wide eyes before tackling him back onto the couch and muttering: “Take your pants off. Now.”

No, Kuroo didn't think he'd mind this relationship at all.

#####

 

“Where's Kuroo?” Bokuto asked, bursting through the door to Tsukishima's room.

The blond looked up from his book, over his glasses, at the white-haired man. “He's at Oikawa’s, either getting laid or yelled at.” He sighed, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. “Next time, could you please knock?”

“Rad, thanks. And sure thing! I'll just be in the living room until Kuroo gets home, okay?”

Tsukishima's frown deepened. “Do what you must.” He pushed his glasses up, annoyed with his roommate's best friend. “Just please try to stay quiet.”

“No sex, got it.” He poked his head out of Tsukishima's room to yell. “You hear that, Akaashi?”

Akaashi seemed to appear next to his boyfriend immediately. “We're not having sex in Kuroo and Tsukishima's house.”

Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to be alone. “Please just try to keep it down because I'm trying to go to sleep.” Mostly the truth.

“Bokuto, get out, he's going to bed.” Akaashi started pushing the taller man out of Tsukishima's room. “I'm sorry, Tsukishima. Goodnight.” He shut the door behind them, leaving Tsukishima alone. He shut his light off, sitting on the side of his bed in the dark. He was alone for the first time in two days. He could finally think.

Kuroo had tried to kiss him. That was certain. Their lips had touched, but Tsukishima quickly backed away. He wasn't sure why Kuroo would do something like that, especially right before he was supposed to talk to Oikawa. The only thing it had done was confuse Tsukishima. He couldn't tell whether Kuroo really just liked taking playful flirting to the extreme, or if he liked Tsukishima, and wanted to get into his pants. It was a stupid thing for Kuroo to try to do, and the blond hated him for it.

He wasn't the type of person who liked being confused. In fact, he hated it. He liked knowing exactly what was predicted to happen, and if something didn't go that way, it bothered him to no end. And he did not predict Kuroo kissing him. That was the last thing he thought would happen. But Kuroo was a man of unpredictable, stupid moves. Tsukishima hated people like that.

========================================================================================

“Life is good!” Kuroo exclaimed, waking Tsukishima up from the only thing keeping him sane.

Followed by a loud, startling “bro!”

Tsukishima sat up, putting his glasses on, and walked into the living room where all the commotion was happening. Much to his instant regret. He was already in a bad mood from getting woken up by Kuroo getting back from Oikawa’s, but Kuroo and Bokuto were loud and energetic, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet.

“So,” Kuroo was explaining, “Oikawa decided he wanted to be official. So we are.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Was it really worth getting everyone up this early?” At the moment, Tsukishima hated Kuroo for waking him up to tell him some stupid news about how him dating a whiny, egotistical, childish idiot.

“Oh, Tsukki, you’re just jealous of him,” Kuroo teased, grinning at him.

Tsukishima’s lip curled up into a mean sneer. “I hate being woken up for no good reason.”

The darker man cocked his head at Tsukishima, eyes glinting with what was probably mockery. “My apologies, oh bitter one.” He acted like he and Tsukishima were friends, like they had some sort of fucking connection just because he had tried to kiss him. It was beginning to piss Tsukishima off. They weren’t friends. Tsukishima wanted absolutely no part in Kuroo’s life, much less as a friend. For now, they were just roommates. They couldn’t even be classified as acquaintances. “Please, go bacl to getting your beauty sleep. Not like you need it.”

Tsukishima scoffed, glaring at the older man. Everyone he was working with was an idiot. The truest, most pure form of idiots. And he hated them all.

#####

Weeks passed. Kuroo spent all of his time either modeling or watching other people model. He was pretty much obligated to watch Oikawa model—not that he minded. He was incredible at his job, and his shoots were always interesting.

Kuroo was standing with Tsukishima, watching the brunet. He was posing in front of a black backdrop, shirtless and covered in glitter. He was wearing black and white vertical striped harem pants, which were oddly fitting in a way, and no shoes. It was about his third outfit, and this one was Kuroo’s favourite. He had to admit, it was a good look for him. Somehow the whole thing fit his personality.

The shoot was for some alternative magazine Kuroo didn’t know the name of. Oikawa had on dark lipstick and strategically smudges eyeliner. Kuroo loved it. Makeup was hot, and Oikawa pulled it off perfectly.

Tsukishima seemed to be observing him quietly, studying his ‘competition.’ He was a smart kid, that was for sure. Every time he had a chance to watch another model, he acted reluctant, but Kuroo could tell he was all over it. Why else would he agree to every shoot possible with Kuroo? He was learning body language and facial expressions from other models. Kuroo had already started noticing improvement, even though Tsukishima had only been with Ace for less than a month.

Kuroo had tried to help him, by talking to him about details and all the little things that made a picture beautiful. Kuroo was good at little things. Being detail oriented, he always seemed to notice the tiny flaws in other companies’ shoots. He didn’t want anyone to make the same mistakes he’d seen so many times in magazines, and on other models. It was the little details that put together the big picture. From the look in someone’s eyes, to the way a finger was extended, that was what made a model interesting to look at. It wasn’t just simply the bone structure of their face they were so gifted with, although that never seemed to hurt anything. It was the slightest tilt of the head and the careless ruffle of hair. Every single detail added more and more to a picture, until it was complete, and pleasing to look at. The big picture was nothing without detail.

========================================================================================

After Oikawa’s shoot, he kissed Oikawa on the mouth and headed over to Bokuto and Akaashi’s joint shoot with Tsukishima at his side.

“Did you like it?” the brunet asked hopefully, gazing up at Kuroo, fingers laced with the other’s.

“Yeah, you looked great,” Kuroo assured. “I really liked the glitter.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his finger on Oikawa’s face, catching some of the glitter on his skin as he pulled away.

Oikawa beamed. “Thanks, I’m glad you liked it. I really like doing alternative photo shoots, but I hardly ever get to do them. I usually just do boring suits and underwear ads.” Oikawa pouted.

Kuroo chuckled. “It must be hard to have been blessed with the face, body, and talent of a damned Greek god.”

#####

Tsukishima wasn’t jealous. He was certain of it. Well, he was nearly certain of it. He couldn’t tell if he was jealous, or just hated Oikawa enough to make him want to sleep with his boyfriend. One could never tell, really.

Tsukishima never really got jealous. He wasn’t the type of person to do that. In the past few weeks of them dating, Tsukishima found himself Hating Oikawa more and more with every kiss he pressed against Kuroo’s lips. Plus, all their kissing and affection and whatnot was annoying. It wasn’t Tsukishima’s fault that they were being disgusting.

Kuroo had kissed him—or at least had attempted to—moments before getting together with Oikawa. That, at least, was certain in Tsukishima’s mind. Honestly, it bothered and confused him. Tsukishima didn’t have a crush on Kuroo. He wasn’t the type of person to have something as childish as that. But he did maybe want to give that kiss another shot. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even like Kuroo. In fact, he found him rather obnoxious and annoying. He didn’t understand why he wanted to kiss Kuroo. But he knew he wanted to tear him out of Oikawa’s arms and kiss that stupid smirk off of his face.

In all honesty, Kuroo’s lips had been soft. At least, they were from what Tsukishima could tell from that slight brush of their lips. That’s what Tsukishima was thinking about as he, Kuroo, and Oikawa walked to Bokuto and Akaashi’s shoot.

Tsukishima had had several shoots since his first one. He’d been solo for all of them, because according to Ukai and Takeda, it was hard to get newbies schedules with some of their more experienced models right away. Working with Akaashi and Fathom had been an exception, since they’d both worked with Ukai’s people so often. Tsukishima was supposed to give it a couple days until he was booked with someone else. Kuroo had watched every single one of his shoots, always giving him feedback and advice, even though Tsukishima didn’t really want it. He figured that Kuroo was trying to help him out and be his friend. Kuroo said he had already started to improve, thanks to watching the other’s shoots, and listening to Kuroo’s endless tips. Bokuto had helped him quite a bit as well, mostly with how to pose in order to show the most muscle definition, in different types of clothing and lighting. Not that Bokuto had any problem with muscle definition at all. Bokuto had the body every bodybuilder or health enthusiast dreamed of. He was what Kuroo would classify as ‘jacked.’

This was obvious to Tsukishima as soon as he walked into Bokuto and Akaashi’s photo shoot. He and Akaashi were wearing matching outfits, but they looked so different in them. They were wearing plain white button up shirts, with all the buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to their elbows. The only other piece of clothing they were wearing was a pair of black briefs. They were showing more skin than Tsukishima had ever shown for a shoot, and it worked so well for them. Bokuto’s hair was slicked back into a pompadour, Akaashi’s loose and curly in his face.

Bokuto was standing straight forward, arms loose at his sides, abs exposed to the camera. His legs were spread a shoulder width apart, subtly displaying the thick muscles in his thighs. He stared at the camera, but his head was tilted down ever-so-slightly, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression that made him look like he was going to tear the place down, and look good while doing it. His lips had the tiniest smirk on them, corners lifting up. He looked fucking powerful as hell. With his stance being so strong and planted on the ground, and his gaze intense enough to burn holes in anyone who looked at him, he looked like he could take the world over, with no qualms about it. His eyes held all the fire and intensity in the world, shooting straight into the lens of the camera. Tsukishima had a hard time believing that this Bokuto was the same one who jumped up this morning at his best friend—or, rather, ‘bro’—coming home.

Akaashi was partially behind him, leaning into him and resting a wrist on Bokuto’s shoulder, so his wrist could hang down over his shoulder. His other arm was limp at his side, fingers touching on his own pale thigh. His cheek was lightly pressed against his own hand, face half hidden by that and Bokuto’s broad stature. His eyes looked bored, half lidded and as uninterested as they come. His lips were in an almost neutral line, if not for the slight pull downwards. He didn’t just look bored, though. He was unamused, uncaring, but in a mean way. He looked mean as hell, and paired with his intense boyfriend, they could’ve killed just with their looks alone.

Their bodies were so different, but they complimented each other so well. Bokuto was thick, bulging muscles, covered by a healthy tan, and Akaashi was pale, thin limbs, strewn together with dark contrast. They complimented each other flawlessly. It probably helped that they were in an actual relationship, because the chemistry in their shoot was obvious. They practically had electricity coming in between the two of them, and coming from Tsukishima, that meant a lot.

“They certainly have some amazing chemistry,” a lilting voice said from behind Tsukishima.

The blond turned to see who was talking to him, eye’s meeting narrow dark ones. Who did Kuroo say this was? He’d mentioned him at dinner a few weeks ago, and he was there during Tsukishima’s tour of Ace. ‘Daishou is a snake and I hate him.’ Ah, Daishou Suguru. This was Kuroo’s supposed arch-nemesis, according to him. Tsukishima didn’t see what was so bad about him. He didn’t look bad. He was actually rather attractive. He was in much more casual clothes than Tsukishima had seen him in, since he wasn’t in a shoot. He wore tight fitting jeans and a loose green t-shirt. He looked effortlessly good, and Tsukishima liked it.

“Shut up, you stupid idiot,” Kuroo rolled his eyes, Oikawa looking amused at his side.

Daishou smiled a tight lipped smile. “Always a pleasure talking to you, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo huffed, furrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t call me that, stupid snake.” His lips turned down in an unfriendly scowl.

Tsukishima scoffed loudly. “Funny hearing that from you.”

“What? Oh.” Kuroo smiled at Tsukishima. “But it’s cute hearing you say it, Tsukki.”

Oikawa glared at his boyfriend, more or less wrapping himself around his arm. He shot the blond a glare. “Tetsu-chan—” he started.

“You know, Tsukishima—that is your name right?” Tsukishima nodded at Daishou. “We have really similar body types and modeling styles. I could always teach you a thing or two, if you wanted.” He smiled widely, showing his unnaturally white teeth.

The taller man shrugged. “Sure.”

Kuroo cocked his head, sighing. “Come on, Tsukki, don’t give into this snake’s traps,” he said, glaring daggers at Daishou.

“What traps, Kuroo?” Daishou laughed. “The unfortunate soul in a trap here, is poor Oikawa, who seems to be dating you.” He leaned in to Oikawa. “My condolences.”

The brunet wrinkled his nose and gave Daishou a mean smile.

Tsukishima looked down at Daishou, who was smiling mockingly at the couple. “I’m free now, if you’d be interested right now.” He smiled at Kuroo, who looked like he’d been betrayed in several painful ways. Tsukishima had had enough of Oikawa and Kuroo’s public affection.

Daishou smiled all but victoriously. “I’d be delighted.”

#####

Daishou was one of the most avant-garde looking people Tsukishima had ever seen. He looked like he should’ve been plotting world domination, rather than being at a modeling firm. His eyebrows were thin and arched, not unlike the rest of his features. Kuroo’s words notwithstanding, Daishou really did look like a snake. His nose was thin and straight, pointing at the tip, adding to his villain-like demeanor. His eyes were naturally narrow, and slanted high enough to make him look nearly unreal. His cheekbones were high and sharp, complimenting his prominent jawline. His mouth extended farther than average, and his lips were thin, but not enough to make him unattractive. Not in the least. He looked like his structure was based off of the humanoid monster in every popular horror movie, but he was so, so attractive. Part of it was that he was unique. He stood out, just as much as Kuroo and Oikawa did. But in a completely different way.

When Daishou asked to kiss him after giving him modeling advice, he didn’t refuse him. He actually leaned in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. The angst will come, eventually.
> 
> I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, please leave comments, kudos, questions, or whatever, telling me how you're liking it so far. I'm actually having a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it as well. Thank you all!


	4. Flawless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing, glitter, and pink. What more do you need?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY I'm finally updating this. Hopefully this chapter is good enough to make up for the lost time? I really like this chapter, so I hope you do too. Happy Holidays, and enjoy!

Daishou was a good kisser. Very clean, very precise with his movements. He had long fingers, resting on the back of Tsukishima’s neck, and just above his knee. Tsukishima still had his hands at his side, too distracted by Daishou’s mouth against his own to do anything with them.

Daishou had helped him with posing, mostly for avant-garde style shoots, since that’s what they both were mostly scheduled for. He was helpful, showing Tsukishima exactly how to fold his body in order to look starved and warped, and how to hang his limbs so they looked longer than they did proportionally.

Even though Daishou was much shorter than Tsukishima, he looked just as lanky as the blond, when he stretched his limbs, bending at the waist. Regardless of what Kuroo said about him, Daishou was a talented model. That much was obvious.

The darker haired male was kissing Tsukishima on the blond’s couch, sucking at his lips. Tsukishima finally lifted a hand to rest in on Daishou’s shoulder. He liked kissing Daishou. It had been a while since he’d kissed anyone, and getting his mind off of kissing Kuroo’s stupid face was a relief.

Ever since Kuroo started dating Oikawa, all Tsukishima could think about was how great it’d feel to steal Kuroo from that stupid brunet. He hated Oikawa, that was for sure, and the look on his face when Tsukishima ripped Kuroo out of his long arms and kissed his lips until neither of them could form a coherent though, would be priceless. Maybe that made Tsukishima a shitty person.

But now Tsukishima wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about how pleasant Daishou’s tongue felt against his own, or how slick his seemingly thin lips felt.

Daishou smiled into the kiss, using the hand at the back of Tsukishima’s neck to press him in closer. The blond could feel the flat edges of Daishou’s teeth scrape against his lip and tongue, gentle and precise with every movement. Tsukishima put his other hand on the side of Daishou’s face, feeling his jaw shift under the skin there, against the taller man’s palm.

The door swung open, a loud “Tsuk—” filling the air and forcing Tsukishima off of Daishou quickly. The blond sat against the couch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Kuroo was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. Bokuto and Akaashi were standing behind Kuroo, looking just as surprised. Akaashi’s eyes were wide, which was enough for him to look completely shocked. Bokuto looked completely blown away, eyes flitting between Kuroo and the scene on the couch. Everyone was perfectly still, waiting for someone to erupt.

That’s when Daishou stood, calmly, wiping his mouth with a hand. He was smiling, eyes locked onto the blond sitting at the couch. “I’ll get ahold of you later, okay Tsukishima?”

The blond just nodded, eyes watching Daishou practically shove past Kuroo to get out the door.

“Kuroo, please don’t do anything stupid,” Akaashi said, dark blue eyes watching the other man.

Kuroo took a deep breath, eyes drilling into Tsukishima’s face. The blond could see his jaw clench. “I’m sorry, Tsukishima, I hadn’t realized you were _busy_.”

Tsukishima blinked, fixing his crooked glasses. “Yes, you did. I told you I was coming here with Daishou.”

“I didn’t realize you were planning on making out with him, Tsukishima.” All the usual playfulness was absent from Kuroo’s voice, the mischievous gone from his eyes. His mouth was a harsh line, face stone cold. Had Tsukishima really pissed him off that much? He supposed it made sense. He hated Daishou with what could be classified as a fiery passion, and Tsukishima had just been caught with Daishou’s tongue down his throat.

Little did Kuroo know, if he hadn’t been so busy with Oikawa, it could have been him on that couch with Tsukishima.

“I wasn’t really planning on it,” Tsukishima explained. “It just happened.”

Kuroo made a small scoffing noise. “I’m sure it did.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I came to tell you is that you, Bokuto, and another model named Iwaizumi have a shoot tomorrow, and Ukai wanted me to tell you that.” He finally walked through the door, allowing Bokuto and Akaashi to follow, and close the door behind them.

“Who’s it with?” Tsukishima asked, choosing to ignore Kuroo’s attitude for now.

Kuroo didn’t answer for a moment, eyes glaring at something in the distance. He looked like he was contemplating whether he should respond or not. “Alien Outfitters.” He walked off to his room, leaving Tsukishima alone with Bokuto and Akaashi.

“Just ignore him,” Akaashi said, sitting Bokuto down so he had somewhere to sit— his lap. “He’s just being moody because of Daishou.”

Bokuto shrugged gleefully. “Daishou and Kuroo have always hated each other, I’m sure he’ll get over it at some point.”

Tsukishima was sure he’d get over it. It wasn’t like Kuroo to be in a shitty mood, so he doubted it’d last for long. Not that he cared. Kuroo could be moody if he wanted, it didn’t affect Tsukishima. They weren’t friends, it wasn’t like Tsukishima cared what Kuroo did. Kuroo’s emotions didn’t affect his own. That’d be ridiculous.

===

Was Kuroo mad? Maybe. Was it because he undoubtedly had some sort of weird feelings for Tsukishima? Was it because his roommate brought in the one person he hated most, and made out with him on Kuroo’s couch, in Kuroo’s living room? Also a maybe. To both.

He was supposed to watch the shoot today. Bokuto had insisted. The only problem he had with that was the fact that Tsukishima was also in that shoot. And he really did not want to see that beautiful face at the moment.

Whenever he looked at Tsukishima, all he could see was Daishou’s stupid mouth on him, kissing him like he needed it to survive. Or that hand pressing at the back of Tsukishima’s neck, or the one on his thigh, lightly drawing the blond into him. Kuroo hated it. He hated how much Tsukishima looked like he was enjoying himself with that snake. He wanted to be the one making Tsukishima enjoy himself. The one who left him breathless after kissing him so hard, the one to earn those tiny little gasps and moans from him. He wanted to pull those noises up from his throat with every bite of his lip, or suck of his skin. He wanted to be the one pleasuring Tsukishima.

Well, fuck.

Oikawa was not going to be happy about this new discovery. That is, if he ever found out about it. Which he absolutely wouldn’t. That would be bad on so many levels.

So. Kuroo obviously had some unresolved feelings towards Tsukishima. As if it hadn’t been obvious this whole time. But he found himself wanting to kiss Tsukishima more than he wanted to kiss his actual boyfriend, at times. And that was very bad. Because he liked Oikawa. Right? Well, he assumed he did. He wouldn’t have agreed to make things official otherwise. He was just lusting after Tsukishima, that was all. That always happened when there was a newbie he hadn’t slept with. It was his subconscious sex drive making him feel things, even when he didn’t want to.

That was all.

===

Tsukishima was wearing more glitter than he’d ever seen in his entire lifetime put together. They’d covered his face in the usual milky foundation, smoothing out his complexion. They’d blended a few shades of pink eyeshadow on top of his eyelid, even smudging a bit on the lower lid. They’d filled his eyebrows in a soft pink, and glued thick, pink false lashes onto his upper lashline, curling them with an eyelash curler and clear mascara. They rubbed blush into his cheeks, giving him a soft pink glow. Wherever they’d usually put highlight, they did—an icy white shimmery powder, but they didn’t stop there. They layered iridescent glitter over the highlights; on his nose, his cheekbones, his browbones, his cupids bow, and even a bit on his chin and forehead. His lips were coated in a nude pink lipstick, followed by a thick clear gloss and plastic confetti stars. They put that same glitter highlight over his arms, chest, and collar bones. When they were finished with him, Tsukishima looked like a feminine, pale pink, angry alien.

Bokuto and the man he’d just met, Iwaizumi, looked much more masculine, not that that was a hard thing to achieve, at this point. They were given basic makeup, a light dusting of glitter over their faces and collar bones as well. Their hair was styled to look messy, but other than that, they looked relatively regular.

Iwaizumi seemed decent enough. He hadn’t annoyed Tsukishima yet. He seemed very professional and into his job, which didn’t seem awful. He was just as muscular as Bokuto, but he was quite a bit shorter. He had spiky black hair and a permanent scowl etched onto a proportional, symmetrical face. His jawline was strong, his cheekbones high, and paired with those dark eyes of him, he was actually rather attractive. When he shook Tsukishima’s hand, his hands were thick and strong, gripping the blond’s thin ones. He looked like he could win in a fight against anyone at Ace, and it honestly wasn’t a bad look for him.

When they got into the shooting room, there were assistants waiting for them with piles of clothing. Tsukishima had a feeling that this one was going to last for a while. Tsukishima’s assistant handed him a bundle of leather straps, a pile of lace, and a mesh shirt. He stared at them, clenched in his hand, before looking back up at the assistant. “You’re going to have to show me how to wear all of this,” he said. He didn’t know much about Alien Outfitters, but judging from the makeup and the outfit, they were into some weird shit.

He took his clothes off and began getting strapped into the leather. It buckled over his shoulders, chest, and stomach, constricting him into perfect posture. The leather was black, adorned with circular silver studs. He was completely shirtless other than the leather, showing just about as much skin as he would if he were actually shirtless. When he looked in the mirror, he saw that it was a leather harness, strapped onto his thin body in a symmetrical design. Tsukishima was wearing a bondage harness. What had Ukai gotten him into?

He pulled the pink mesh shirt over his frame, eyeing himself in the mirror. The harness was still completely visible, as was Tsukishima’s body, but the shirt made Tsukishima look less into bondage, and more into fashion.

“Um. Excuse me,” his assistant muttered in an attempt to get Tsukishima’s attention. He turned to look at her. “The boss said he wants you in these, before you put the stockings on.” She held a small piece of fabric between her fingers, eyes averted.

Tsukishima took the piece of fabric from her, staring at it with horror in his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he said through grit teeth, scaring the assistant. She shook her head quickly, still avoiding eye contact. “Fine.”

Tsukishima walked out of the shooting room, and straight to the actual dressing room, where he shut the door and threw that nightmarish piece of fabric onto the counter. Looking at himself in the vanity mirror, he already looked totally fucking ridiculous. He didn’t need a pair of pink with black lace _panties_ that said ‘ _Yes, daddy_ ’ on the back of them, in an awful cursive font to complete the look.

He restrained from tearing all of his hair out, and slipped into the panties, glaring at himself in the mirror. At least they had high coverage.

Tsukishima looked as if he were about to go to some crazy rave, or a sex party where they required you to look like the sluttiest alien you could possibly imagine. He looked the part, he really did.

When he got back to the shooting room, the assistant handed him a pair of white lace stockings. He pursed his lips and took the socks from her, slipping them over his feet, and up his legs, until they hit mid-thigh. God, he was never going to be allowed to live this one down. Ukai had to be out of his fucking mind to book Tsukishima for this shoot. He’d better be making a lot of money if he was going to have to wear this outfit on camera.

Bokuto and Iwaizumi got the easy end of this deal, wearing circular holographic crystal sunglasses and tight black pants. And that was it. While Tsukishima was bound in leather straps, the other two men got the pleasure of being completely shirtless.

“Okay,” the designer started, eyes locked onto the trio, “I’d like to get individual shots first, and then we’ll move on to the good stuff, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” they responded, patiently waiting for further instructions.

Bokuto went first, happily bouncing into his place in front of the camera. As soon as he was in front of the camera, his whole demeanor changed. He was no longer puppy-dog Bokuto, he was a feral dog, muscles gleaming in the light. He hooked his thumbs in the front waistband of his pants, tilting his head back to look down at the camera. His lips were parted slightly, showing off the edges of his white teeth. The designer hardly had to instruct him to move—he was that much of a natural. He turned to the side, keeping his head turned towards the camera, showing off his bulging arm muscles and his slim waist. The camera flashed, and he bent down into a squat, facing the camera. He gave the camera a teasing smirk, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. _Flash_. He rested his cheek on his hand, still squatting. _Flash_. He stood, keeping the smirk, and threading his fingers through his messy hair, the other hand hanging limp at his side. The designer loved everything he did, telling him to give him more and more, earning more perfect poses from Bokuto. Bokuto was about so much more than muscle. At first glance, it’d look like he was just good at his job because he had a hot body, but he knew how much to turn his body, or what expression to give to make it the perfect shot. And he didn’t give anything less than perfect.

Iwaizumi was next. Tsukishima had never seen him model before, but with as professional as he acted, he was sure he’d be good at his job. Iwaizumi’s first pose was similar to Bokuto’s first one, standing tall and confident, muscles prominent. The camera flashed, and he crossed his arms, bulging his already huge arm muscles. He had a mean expression on his face, but it didn’t look out of place, or unpleasant. He hung his arms at his sides for the next pose, keeping his strong stance, but gave the camera a charmingly flirtatious smile that Tsukishima would have never thought to see on that face. The designer really liked that smile, so Iwaizumi kept it as he stretched his arms over his head, showing off all the muscles in his chest and stomach. He let the smile drop to run his fingers through his messy dark hair, parting his lips and averting his eyes to the side of the room. He was good, and it was obvious that he really cared about his job. He put maximum effort into every pose he did. He wasn’t like Oikawa, who could just shift slightly and it was the most beautiful, effortless thing anyone had ever laid their eyes on, he really tried, and it certainly worked for him.

Tsukishima was next, internally groaning. He absolutely did not want anyone to see him in this outfit, but he had a job to do, and the money was all he could think about to get him through this.

“Alright, pretty boy, why don’t you show me what you got?” the designer asked, the cameraman readying himself.

Tsukishima sighed. He stretched his arms halfway to their full extent, turning his head to the side so they could get a look at his profile. He could feel the shirt lift off of his hipbones, giving the camera a great view of those panties Tsukishima would gladly burn. He then stretched his arms all the way up, and angled his hips forward, so his hipbones would be more prominent than they already were. He sucked his stomach in next, so his ribs really stood out. Flash. He bent his body in half, like Daishou had showed him, and arched his back. He hung his arms limply in front of them, and then pressed them against his chest, thumbs framing his nipples, fingers extending down onto his ribcage.

“Good, good. Now, sit down and do a few poses down there,” the designer instructed.

Tsukishima dropped to his knees and smirked, head tilted down, eyes narrow and staring straight into the camera. There were a few whistles from around the room. Tsukishima sat down, turning his body halfway away from the camera. He crossed one long leg over the other, resting back on the hand closest to the camera. The other one was resting on his lap, fingers against the lace of the stocking. There was a flash, so he bent one leg up, resting his wrist on his knee, letting his hand go limp. Flash. He turned his body towards the camera, twisting his torso, and showing off the harness. Flash. He crawled forward on his arms, just a bit, keeping his legs in the same general pose. He opened his eyes wider, feigning innocent, and parted his sticky, glossed lips.

“Alright, now let’s see the back of that thing.”

Tsukishima almost externally groaned. Well, if anyone at Ace wanted to see him naked, they could just watch this shoot and get nearly the same experience. Tsukishima stood and turned around, spreading his legs slightly and arching his back so his ass stuck out more. This was officially his least favourite shoot. He felt ridiculous. Tsukishima saw the flash on the wall in front of him, so he put his hands behind him, so he could press his fingers right under his asscheeks, rolling his eyes as he did. Next, he grabbed the sides of the panties and tugged them upwards, exposing even more of him. When he was dismissed, he quickly turned around and glared at everyone in the room. Even Kuroo was there, but he was too preoccupied with pressing kisses into Oikawa’s cheeks to notice Tsukishima’s sour expression.

God, Tsukishima wanted to rip that man out of Oikawa’s arms and show him what he was missing out on.

===

Kuroo walked into the shoot late. He was supposed to be meeting Oikawa here, as usual. He walked over with Akaashi, who was as pleasantly silent as always, but was in much more of a hurry than Kuroo, to see his boyfriend. Kuroo liked Akaashi because he wasn’t obligated to entertain him, or even talk to him. If he didn’t feel like talking about what was on his mind, he didn’t have to. Which, today, was for the better.

He walked in right when Tsukishima was called over to do the individual shoot, and nearly passed out. He was supposed to be mad at Tsukishima, but he wasn’t sure that was going to be possible, at least not for the remainder of this shoot.

Kuroo _really_ had a thing for legs. He always had, and probably always would. He had seen Tsukishima’s legs before, sure, when he was getting dressed for a shoot, or whenever. But Kuroo had not seen that far _up_ his leg before. Definitely not. He had never seen those milky white thighs before, and adorned in lace stockings, they were even better. The stockings hugged his thighs flawlessly, the band squeezing at his soft thighs ever so slightly.

Kuroo also had a thing for bondage, blonds, glitter, and makeup.

Tsukishima looked fucking _ethereal_ in that makeup. He was all pink and shimmer and glitter and it made Kuroo absolutely fucking _weak_. His skin looked paler than usual, especially against that tight leather he was completely bound in. It strapped against the shape of his body perfectly, framing all the right places. Kuroo couldn’t keep his eyes off of Tsukishima’s cute, pink nipples under that mesh shirt, and he felt awful about himself as he did. Oh, the things he’d give to put his mouth on that body, all pale and pink. To feel Tsukishima’s slender body squirm under him. Fuck.

“Hey, Tetsu,” Oikawa flirted, walking towards him. Perfect timing. If Kuroo let himself think about Tsukishima for any longer, he’d be two things: hard, and guilty.

Kuroo wrapped his arm around Oikawa’s waist and pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Hey.”

Oikawa smiled. “I am so looking forward to this shoot. I think Iwa-chan is going to do such a good job!” Iwaizumi, or ‘Iwa-chan’ was Oikawa’s long time best friend. “Oh, and Bokuto and the other one, of course.” It was clear to Kuroo that he was only saying that second part for Kuroo’s benefit. At least he was pretending to like his boyfriend’s friends.

“Yeah, it’s looking awesome so far,” Kuroo agreed, doing his best not to glance at the tall blond in front of the camera.

Oikawa’s expression shifted into a bitter one, momentarily. “I’m just upset I didn’t get booked with them. Everyone knows how much I love Alien Outfitters. It even says alien in the name.” He stuck his lower lip out in a pout, glaring at the designer. Oikawa Tooru: Alien Enthusiast.

Kuroo chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

Tsukishima had his back to the camera. Oikawa was looking straight at Kuroo’s face, with those terrifyingly large brown eyes. Instead of looking at the blond until he got his fill, he pressed a kiss against Oikawa’s cheekbone, right under his temple. That seemed to preoccupy Oikawa for a second, so Kuroo averted his attention to the half-naked blond, who had his hands on his ass, lifting the cheeks just enough to accentuate his ass. Kuroo made a conscious effort to breathe steadily.

Tsukishima arched his back even more, tugging the panties up to expose the skin of his hips and hug the cheeks of his ass tightly. His legs were spread, ass out, and Kuroo could have passed out from all his blood moving southward at once. He felt his dick twitch in his pants, and turned his head to see Oikawa’s grimace.

“Stop looking at him like that,” Oikawa pouted, eyebrows furrowed at his boyfriend.

Kuroo was trying his best to think unpleasant thoughts in order to avoid getting an erection in the middle of his best friend’s photoshoot. _Spider webs. Brussel sprouts. Angry Oikawa. Nope, not that one. Splinters. Paper cuts. Raw egg whites. There we go._

“I wasn’t looking at him like anything,” Kuroo lied. He was looking at Tsukishima like something, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his very jealous boyfriend.

“You never look at me like that.”

Kuroo pulled Oikawa closer by the waist, kissing his cheek. “I most certainly do!” he defended. “You just never see it because you’re always in shoots, and I am a master at hiding it from you.” He kissed him again, and again, until he saw a small smile twitch on Oikawa’s lips.

The designer called all three models up so he could start the combined portion of the shoot. He positioned Tsukishima in the middle, with Bokuto and Iwaizumi on either side of him. He faced Tsukishima towards Bokuto first, slinging Tsukishima’s arms around Bokuto’s neck, face close to the white-haired man’s. Iwaizumi was pressed against the blond’s back, head tilted, and fingers on his slender waist. Tsukishima’s lips were about an inch away from Bokuto’s, parted. Iwaizumi and Bokuto had stony cold expressions on their face, eyes averted to Tsukishima’s face.

They did that same pose, but reversed, with Tsukishima facing Iwaizumi, and Bokuto looking over the blond’s shoulder. Tsukishima really looked extra thin, between two of Ace’s most muscular male models. Especially since he was taller than both of them, he looked like stretched out bubble gum, but in the prettiest way possible.

Tsukishima then got on his knees, earning a condescending snort from Oikawa, and a sharp intake of breath from the rest of the room, including Kuroo. Tsukishima had his head tilted up at Bokuto, whose fingers were gently tucked under the blond’s chin. The next pose was in the same positions—the two muscular men standing on either side of the blond, Tsukishima on his knees, and they were all looking straight into the camera, with what could only be classified as the Resting Bitch Face. They made an intimidating trio on camera.

It was sexy, and sensual, and surprisingly intimate, and Kuroo really liked it a lot.

That’s how most of their shots were. They all looked so unified, as if they’d been working with each other forever, when Tsukishima had only been with the firm for a bit. They moved with each other, whether it was a shift of their weight, or their expressions. They looked fantastic.

“I honestly don’t think he’s that good,” Oikawa said, waving his hand. He was looking right at Tsukishima, observing his every move.

“I do,” Kuroo blurted.

“What?” Oikawa scoffed, looking confused at Kuroo’s words.

Kuroo shrugged. “He’s a great model. He’s catching up with Bokuto and Iwaizumi really fast.” That statement honestly had nothing to do with the fact that Kuroo totally wanted to destroy Tsukishima in bed, until he couldn’t walk without his legs shaking under him. Tsukishima really was a talented model.

Oikawa made a small humming noise in response. Kuroo was sure he’d hear about this later. The brunet was constantly getting jealous of Tsukishima, and it was always Kuroo’s own damn fault. He always ended up having to assure Oikawa that Kuroo still liked him, and that Oikawa was better than Tsukishima. It was practically routine, by now.

For the last set of poses, Tsukishima turned around, eyes catching Kuroo’s for just a second before he was turned away. He arched his back, bending over, ass sticking out towards the camera, and muttered something to Iwaizumi and Bokuto. They nodded in response, resting their elbows on Tsukishima’s back, giving the false impression that they were leaning on the blond. He stood up, wrapping one arm around each of their necks, pulling them closer. They put the arms farthest away from Tsukishima on his hips, staring into the camera. The designer could not have been more happy about a pose. Finally, Tsukishima kept the pose, but turned his head, displaying the tendons in his neck and some of the makeup he was wearing. The other two put the hands previously on his hips, on his ass, careful not to cover the writing on the back of the panties. On their faces, perfectly fitting smirks.

And that was a wrap. Tsukishima, Bokuto, and Iwaizumi thanked the designer, shaking his hand, and then thanked the crew for working with them. 

“I have to pee, I’ll be back,” Oikawa said, walking out of the room with a yawn.

Tsukishima stood in the corner, peeling the stockings off of his legs, revealing more of that milky white skin. Kuroo wanted to touch it, feel it’s smoothness under his rough hands, or taste them with the tip of his tongue. The blond hurried past Kuroo to change out of the panties, pants in hand.

Bokuto and Iwaizumi were putting their regular clothes back on, handing the sunglasses and pants back to the assistants.

Tsukishima came back, now just wearing grey sweatpants and the harness. He handed the mesh shirt and panties back to the assistant, before asking for help with the harness. She buckled him out of it, slipping it over his arms and his head to get it off. There were faint pink marks on his skin where the harness was, making it look like there was still one on him, just in a very faint, pale pink.

“Kuroo, can you help me take some of this makeup off? I don’t want to get any of it on my shirt.” Tsukishima looked at the darker haired man with those deep gold eyes, expression completely neutral and unreadable.

“Sure.” Kuroo wasn’t sure why he was being asked, but he didn’t mind. A lot of newbies asked Kuroo for help when they didn’t know how to do something. Oikawa wasn’t around, so he wasn’t subject to any nasty glares or threats of no sex. Plus, Tsukishima wasn’t wearing those panties anymore, so Kuroo was pretty much safe from unwanted boners.

“Thanks.” Tsukishima walked out of the room, and Kuroo assumed he should too, stepping behind the blond to follow him into the makeup room.

“So, how’d you like that shoot?” Kuroo chuckled, any thoughts of still being mad at Tsukishima completely escaping his mind as he glanced at the taller man’s ass in the sweatpants he was wearing.

“I hated it.”

Kuroo smiled. “I figured as much. You couldn’t tell by looking at the shoot, though.”

“Good.” Tsukishima shut the door to the makeup room, walking over to the mirror and staring at himself for a while. “This makeup is going to take forever to get off.” He turned towards Kuroo, and Kuroo noticed that he still wasn’t wearing his glasses. He sure was pretty without them. “How’d you like the shoot?” he asked, stepping closer to Kuroo. He was studying the shorter man’s face, floating forward with every second.

“You looked great. It. It looked great.”

“Good.” Tsukishima closed the distance between them, hand on the back of Kuroo’s neck, glossed lips meeting Kuroo’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL let's start the plot, amiright?
> 
> Please leave a comment telling me what you think, asking any questions, or leaving any constructive criticism you feel necessary! Thank you!


	5. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Tsukishima are slowly realizing what they really want in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating, and it isn't a few months late. Don't get too used to it. Enjoy!

Tsukishima was kissing Kuroo. Finally. His perfect lips were still covered in shimmery, sticky lipgloss and those little confetti stars, and Kuroo could feel it against his own lips.

Kuroo was kissing Tsukishima back. He hadn’t hesitated, not a second—as soon as the blond’s lips were against his own, he was kissing back, lips sliding perfectly against the other man’s.

Screw what Kuroo had said about being safe from getting any unwanted boners.

He wasn’t sure why Tsukishima was doing it. Tsukishima had always told Kuroo that he wasn’t interested, could never, possibly be interested, but here he was, a hand on the back of Kuroo’s neck, drawing him in impossibly closer, kissing him like Kuroo had never been kissed before. Partially because Kuroo had never had this much glitter or confetti stars in his mouth before, but partially because it felt so _raw_. It didn’t feel like he was simply kissing Tsukishima’s face, it felt like he was kissing all of Tsukishima, breathing him in and devouring all that he got.

Tsukishima’s tongue was wet, sliding against Kuroo’s lips and flicking against the roof of his mouth. When his teeth pulled at his lower lip, a low growl rose from Kuroo’s throat, earning an unmissable smile from the taller man. Kuroo kissed him harder, sucking on his lips, grabbing him by the hips to pull his body forward, fingers digging into the soft, pale skin.

“Wait,” Kuroo said, lips moving against Tsukishima’s as he spoke. He pulled away farther, looking at Tsukishima’s face. Tsukishima’s lips were wet with Kuroo’s saliva. His hands were still grasping the blond’s thin hips. “I can’t do this. Oikawa—”

Tsukishima took a step back, letting Kuroo’s arms fall limp at his sides. “Oikawa,” Tsukishima said. His face was back to his usual scowl, lips in a perfect pout, gloss and stars smeared around them. “Alright.”

Kuroo sighed. Tsukishima really was beautiful. “Not that I don’t want to. I do. I really, really do, but I can’t.”

Tsukishima picked up a makeup wipe and started wiping the glitter off his face, starting with under his eye, gradually working onto his cheekbone. “Why are you with Oikawa, then?”

“Because I like him,” Kuroo said, way too quickly. It didn’t even sound like the truth to himself.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Kuroo shifted, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t tell Oikawa about this, okay?” He didn’t need an even more jealous boyfriend. He also didn’t want to explain to Oikawa that he definitely, definitely kissed Tsukishima back, and enjoyed it more than he should have.

“I don’t care enough to tell anyone,” Tsukishima said, wiping at his lips. Kuroo followed his movements, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. Confetti stars glinted at him in the lighting, stuck to his skin.

“Thank you.”

Tsukishima was peeling the false eyelashes off of his eyelids, glaring at himself in the mirror. “You kissed me back, though.”

“I know.” Kuroo opened the door to the makeup room, watching Tsukishima. His back was curved so he could look at himself closely in the mirror, spine prominent under pale skin. His skin was smooth, and flawless, completely void of freckles, or blemishes, or anything that would give the impression that Tsukishima wasn’t a perfect, icy, angel. “You’re a good kisser, by the way.” He shut the door behind him, walking to the shooting room, where Oikawa, Bokuto, and Akaashi were waiting for him.

Oikawa was smiling at him, as usual, but something in his eyes flickered, and his smile turned fake. Kuroo could always tell. Oikawa was not as good as hiding it as he thought he was. Kuroo leaned down to kiss Oikawa on the mouth, but the brunet didn’t kiss back, just kept that plastered smile on his face.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, furrowing his brows in concern.

“We should all go out to eat,” Oikawa said, that shitty forced smile still on his face. “Can Iwa-chan come with?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Sure, man, I don’t mind.” Iwaizumi was well put together, and thought it was just as funny to make fun of Oikawa as Kuroo did, so they got along well.

Oikawa bounced over to Iwaizumi, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulled him towards the rest of the group, chatting quickly and beaming at his best friend. While Oikawa wasn’t looking, Kuroo picked a confetti star off of his tongue and flicked it onto the ground.

“Where are we eating?” Akaashi asked, one of his arms wrapped around Bokuto’s, the other hand linked with the hand on that same arm. His cheek rested against Bokuto’s tricep, face squished against the hard muscle.

“I don’t know, wherever,” Kuroo said, throwing an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. “Wherever Oikawa and Bokuto can agree on, since they’re the ones who care so much.” Tsukishima entered the room, now makeup-free, and grabbed his glasses. “You coming with us, Tsukki?” He was trying to act like he hadn’t just totally kissed Tsukishima back in the makeup room.

“I don’t know.”

“You should!” Bokuto jumped, breaking away from Akaashi’s grip to poke Tsukishima in the side. “We need the whole squad together!”

Tsukishima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed at the white-haired man. “You can go without me.” His voice was colder than usual, scowl deeper, eyes meaner. Kuroo wondered why.

“Please?” Bokuto pouted, continuing to poke the blond in the ribs. He didn’t stop until Tsukishima smacked his hand away.

“Fine,” he said, just to get Bokuto to stop bothering him.

Oikawa laced his finger’s with Kuroo’s pulling him along, happily annoying Iwaizumi. Bokuto went back to his boyfriend, who practically demanded kisses from him, to which he happily obliged. Tsukishima was walking behind the group, looking as bitchy and beautiful as ever.

Oikawa looked up at Kuroo’s face, and wiped at his lower lip with a thumb. “You have some glitter on your face,” the brunet smiled, eyes burning holes into Kuroo’s face. Kuroo’s eyes widened momentarily.

He knew. Oikawa knew. It was obvious. _That’s_ why his smile had faltered, and that’s why he was giving Kuroo that fake, sickly sweet expression of his. Of course Oikawa would figure everything out as soon as he saw the darker haired man. He’d probably even confirmed it the moment the blond walked into the room. Oikawa was terrifyingly smart, and even more, he was fucking observant. He didn’t know how to explain this to Oikawa, didn’t know if he _could_. Tsukishima had kissed him, and Kuroo? Kuroo had kissed him back faster than he’d ever kissed anyone back in his entire life.

===

Tsukishima wasn’t really sure why he had kissed Kuroo in the makeup room. He had no actual explanation for it, he just really wanted to kiss Kuroo right then, and since Oikawa was out of the room, it was the perfect time to do it.

And god, Kuroo was such a good kisser. He was rough, and deep, and he pulled Tsukishima forward with force, and a grip so tight on his hips that he could nearly feel his fingertips bruising into his skin. He sucked on his lips, and bit them, and completely took Tsukishima’s fucking breath away, and it pissed him off. More than anything, it pissed Tsukishima off that Kuroo was the one to pull away. He understood why he did it, because Oikawa and whatever, but the moment the cold air hit Tsukishima’s wet lips, he wanted to kiss Kuroo again. He still wanted to kiss Kuroo, and that’s exactly the reason Tsukishima was avoiding him. It was perfect timing, because Kuroo was avoiding him too.

It was hard to avoid someone you lived with, but somehow, they managed. Kuroo was at Oikawa’s at night, when Tsukishima usually had Daishou over, just for a brief make out session, and maybe a drink. During the day, they both had multiple shoots, so it wasn’t hard to keep their distance. They still saw each other, but they never interacted. That was the way things were supposed to be, Tsukishima supposed.

And Daishou was good enough at keeping Kuroo off of Tsukishima’s mind. That’s what he told himself, anyway. Daishou was different enough from Kuroo to keep the blond preoccupied, but similar enough to keep his attention. They made out a lot—on Tsukishima’s couch, at Daishou’s place, before shoots, in empty rooms, and really, whenever they could fit time into their busy days.

For the past week, Tsukishima had been totally booked. Ever since his shoot with Alien Outfitters, designers had apparently, according to Ukai and Takeda, been begging to shoot with Tsukishima. Some were solo shoots, some were with other, lesser known models that weren’t of Tsukishima’s direct interest. He’d been mostly put in feminine clothing, once again due to Alien Outfitters, but none of them were as ridiculous or flamboyant as the body harness and panties. Thankfully.

Tsukishima had a shoot with Daishou in a few hours, so naturally, he was lying on top of the darker haired man, straddling his slender hips, kissing him on the mouth. They were on the couch in Tsukishima and Kuroo’s living room, as usual. This was the place they usually ended up making out. Maybe Tsukishima was subconsciously hoping that Kuroo would walk in on them again, maybe he wasn’t. The world would never know.

Daishou had the tips of his fingers under the waistband of Tsukishima’s jeans, cold against the usually warm skin. Tsukishima had a hand on the side of Daishou’s face, thumb stroking the taut skin over his high cheekbone. They were kissing slow and deep, tongues against tongue, longing for nothing more than the wet feeling of mouth on mouth. That was exactly what their relationship was, too. No feelings, small and quick interactions. They were just fooling around for the sake of fooling around, and Tsukishima really enjoyed it.

He also enjoyed how much Daishou’s lips could distract him from Kuroo’s.

“So, we ever going to do anything besides make out?” Daishou asked, sliding his hands to Tsukishima’s lower back. “No pressure, I’m just wondering.”

Tsukishima thought for a moment, taking his glasses off and setting them on the floor, since they kept slipping down his nose. “Probably,” he said, and dove back down to keep kissing Daishou. His hands were sliding up the shorter man’s shirt, feeling ribs and smooth skin under his palms. Daishou pressed his hands hard into the small of Tsukishima’s back, giving the blond the perfect chance to grind his hips down onto Daishou’s. He could feel the other man’s breath hitch in his own mouth, his lips faltering for a moment. This only fueled Tsukishima more, urging him to grind down on Daishou in a steady pattern, working his mouth down his pale neck.

He slid his hand under the waistband of Daishou’s pants, over his boxers, and rubbed at the hardening bulge there. He sucked at one of Daishou’s collarbones, eyes looking up at the other man. Daishou was breathing heavily, lips parted and eyes half lidded. His usually neat black hair was a mess from Tsukishima’s hands. He looked absolutely wrecked, and Tsukishima thrived on it.

Tsukishima was straddling Daishou’s leg, his own length hard against his thigh. He fit his hand down Daishou’s boxers, wrapping his fingers around his length. He started stroking him, squeezing him from base all the way up to the tip, twisting his wrist as he went. He licked a stripe of saliva up his throat, to his mouth, and started kissing him again. Daishou parted his lips invitingly, leaning up on his elbows to get closer to the blond. Tsukishima kissed him so hard he thought his lips were going to bruise. Teeth were clacking together, tongues sliding against slick lips, and it felt great.

Tsukishima was pumping his hand over Daishou’s cock, thumb slipping over the precome forming at the head. Daishou inhaled sharply, smiling at Tsukishima. The blond was precise with his movements, twisting his hand over the shaft, fingers dancing across the slit.

“You are really good with your hands,” Daishou breathed. He bucked his hips up into Tsukishima’s touch. The blond was half expecting him to growl, the same way Kuroo had.

Tsukishima smirked, speeding up his pace. Daishou’s cock was slick with precome, making the taller man’s movements easier. “Am I, Daishou?” he asked, drawing out the name as if he were trying to taste the syllables.

A low whine escaped the darker haired man’s throat. His hips were bucking up, leg grinding into Tsukishima’s own erection. “Yeah,” he panted out. His mouth was open just enough for Tsukishima to stick his tongue past his lips, running it across the warmth of his mouth. His lips were tingling from how much he’d kissed Daishou today. It was a pleasant feeling.

Tsukishima moved his hand faster, still kissing the man. He tightened his grip, squeezing harder at the base, and loosening his hand as he worked his way up to the head. Every time he reached the tip, his fingers rubbed under the ridge, thumb flicking over the slit. Every time he did, Daishou gasped, Tsukishima drawing the air right out of his lungs, breathing it in.

“Are you going to come?” Tsukishima asked, mouth moving against Daishou’s as he spoke in a soft murmur. And that was it. Daishou was coming, hot white spilling over the blond’s fingers, soft groans leaving the other’s parted lips. He was bucking into Tsukishima’s grip as he came, riding out his orgasm.

When he was finished, Daishou gave a sleepy smile and kissed the other’s lips. He parted Tsukishima’s lips with his tongue. As they kissed, Daishou slid his hands down from his chest, into his pants. He started rubbing at the bulge there, thin fingers jerking him off through his boxers. His hands felt good, but they weren’t exactly strong. His fingers were thin and pretty, as opposed to thick and rough. Which was fine. It was good, to Tsukishima.

Tsukishima heard the lock on the door click, and pulled Daishou’s hand out of his pants quickly. Kuroo opened the door, taking in the sight in front of him. Tsukishima was still straddling Daishou’s leg, but he was sitting up to look at the darker haired man who’d just come in. Daishou was smiling contentedly, narrow eyes looking up at Kuroo.

Kuroo didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes, the edges of his lips tilting down in distaste. He shut the door behind him, but he might as well have slammed it, the way Tsukishima flinched away from the sound. Kuroo walked past them without saying a word, secluding himself in his room. Tsukishima wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t know what. He wanted Kuroo to at least acknowledge him.

“You should go,” Tsukishima suggested, looking down at Daishou.

“Yeah,” Daishou agreed, sitting up. “I need to go take a shower, anyway.” He stood up, adjusting his pants and his hair. “This was fun, though.” He smiled at the blond.

Tsukishima nodded in agreement. God, Kuroo really pissed him off sometimes.

Daishou’s fingers were on the door handle, eyes piercing through the blond. “I’ll see you at the shoot, Tsukishima.” He walked out, shutting the door behind himself. Tsukishima frowned.

Kuroo drove him crazy, he really did. He’d been trying not to think about it, but all he could see when he looked at Kuroo were his stupid, full lips that felt even softer than they looked. All he could remember were his strong hands grabbing Tsukishima by the waist and forcing him forward, as if Tsukishima weighed nothing. Or the growl that rose up from his throat, deep and quiet, sending chills up the blond’s spine, igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to feel all of that again. From the sharp edges of Kuroo’s perfectly white teeth, to the warmth bubbling within him, he wanted to feel it all again.

When he was with Daishou, he couldn’t focus on anything other than the ways he was similar to and different from Kuroo. They both had wide, sly smiles, narrow eyes, thin, arched eyebrows, and dark hair. Daishou’s hair was neatly parted to the side, whereas Kuroo’s was a fucking mess, sticking up in every which way, bangs sloppily covering one eye. Daishou’s skin was pale, Kuroo’s a healthy tan. Daishou’s limbs were long, like Kuroo’s, but he was skinny enough to look breakable. Kuroo was muscular and toned, completely proportional and very strong. They were similar enough, Tsukishima supposed. But they were so different, and Tsukishima couldn’t get his mind off of one of them.

Kuroo kissed Tsukishima back. That was an undeniable truth. Whether he stopped for Oikawa’s sake or not, he still kissed Tsukishima back until they were both out of breath and panting for air. You can’t just kiss someone back with all the fire in the world, and then stop talking to someone. That’s not the way things were supposed to work. Tsukishima hated how much he wanted to have contact with Kuroo. It was ridiculous of him to want such a thing, but here he was, wanting it more than ever.

=

Kuroo was all sorts of fucked up over walking in on Daishou and Tsukishima, again. Tsukishima’s lips were cherry red, contrasting with the paleness of his skin. His eyes were darker than usual, and Kuroo could only assume it was due to arousal. That killed him. He couldn’t believe that his longtime rival was the one giving Tsukishima that look.

Tsukishima had been straddling Daishou’s leg. Kuroo couldn’t even imagine having those soft thighs straddle him, clothed or not. He had seen those thighs in last week’s shoot, and they were amazing, to say the very least.

He had tried not to look at them. He really had. He wanted to just walk past them, not say a word, and haul himself up in his room until the two of them left. He didn’t want to see them, or hear them, or even think about them together. It made him so mad.

Kuroo hadn’t been talking to Tsukishima, not since they’d kissed in the makeup room. For good reason, too. Kuroo was afraid that if he spoke to Tsukishima for more than fifteen seconds at a time, he’d kiss him, or tell him how badly he wanted to feel those perfect, pink lips against his, despite having a boyfriend. He was afraid of the power Tsukishima had over him, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble than he already undoubtedly had.

He didn’t quite understand what the power was that Tsukishima had over him, or why he had it. Tsukishima was beautiful, sure, but he was surrounded by beautiful people, That type of thing was not new to Kuroo. He’d slept with several people, some of them models, some of them not. But he couldn’t get over this particular blond. A blond with shitty expressions and an even shittier attitude about everyone and everything. There had been very few times Kuroo had seen Tsukishima without a scowl, or a frown, or any sort of unpleasant expression on that perfectly unblemished, pale face of his. So why did Kuroo find him so beautiful?

His skin was smooth and pale, like cream. Cream that Kuroo could spend hours tracing patterns onto with the tips of his fingers, or cream that he wouldn’t mind having to lick up. His legs were so, so long, seeming to stretch out for _miles_ in their smooth, muscular bliss. Kuroo would do anything to wrap those very legs around his waist, or throw them over his shoulders. He could tangle his hands in that soft, light blond hair, or let those eyes stare up at him, so warm in colour, but so cold in emotion. He wanted Tsukishima’s hands to wrap around his neck like they had before, or slide through his hair, or even lace with Kuroo’s own, thicker fingers. And those lips. Kuroo could hardly manage to spend time thinking about anything other than those pouty, pink lips. They were the perfect shade of pink, his lower lip jutting out in the slightest to form an appealing pout, his cupid’s bow the perfect dip. He would let those lips absolutely tear him apart, physically and literally, or even verbally. That’s how much Kuroo liked them.

Kuroo worked with models. Actual fucking models, and only one seemed to appeal to him anymore. And it wasn’t Oikawa. It couldn’t have even turned out to be his own fucking boyfriend, and he felt genuinely awful about it. Oikawa was a good friend of his, and always had been. But he was lacking something very important to Kuroo, and that was intrigue. He wasn’t intrigued by what Oikawa had to say, or what he did, or even about who he was as a person. He never had been. Tsukishima was the exact opposite, to Kuroo. He wanted to know every detail about that pretty, bitter blond. He wanted to know what types of music he enjoyed listening to, or what got him into the modeling business, or even his standpoint on the cats versus dogs case. Tsukishima was reserved, and that only intrigued Kuroo further.

Oikawa had never intrigued Kuroo. It was sad. It wasn’t because he was a boring person—he certainly wasn’t, but there was nothing that was keeping Kuroo there, cemented into the floor to see what he had to say. Oikawa and Kuroo had been sleeping together for some time now. At least a few months, if Kuroo really had to guess. And then Oikawa decided that he liked Kuroo as more than just a fuck buddy, so they started dating. It seemed like a good idea to Kuroo, at the time. Little did Kuroo know, everything started going downhill for him the moment he accepted Oikawa’s request to go official.

Apparently, when Oikawa had made things official, it only made Kuroo realize what he really wanted—Tsukishima. Hell, he had tried to kiss him seconds before becoming Oikawa’s boyfriend. He wanted Tsukishima, and he wanted it bad. He didn’t even just want him sexually. God, Kuroo wished. That would make everything so much fucking easier. He wanted Tsukishima in every way, shape, and form. Because, as it turns out, he liked Tsukishima. He actually fucking liked Tsukishima, and there was little to nothing he could to about it. Not yet, anyway.

=

Kuroo was sitting on Oikawa’s couch, holding both of his hands in his own. He’d come to talk to Oikawa, to explain to him a few things even he didn’t quite understand.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Kuroo?” Oikawa smiled, something wavering in his large brown eyes. His smile was forced, too wide and tight lipped. He eyes were wider than usual, staring expectantly at Kuroo.

Kuroo took a deep breath. “Listen, Oikawa,” he started. Oikawa’s hands felt surprisingly cold. “I think what we have is great, and you’re fantastic, I just—”

The smile was gone from his face, and Kuroo could clearly see that the something wavering in his eyes was fear. He was afraid of bad news, and that was exactly what Kuroo had to deliver to him. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” His voice was devoid of its’ usual playfulness, completely monotone.

Kuroo inhaled slowly. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want in life.”

“Cut the bullshit, Kuroo,” Oikawa spat, tearing his cold hands out of the darker haired man’s. “I know it’s Tsukishima. I know you kissed him.”

“He kissed me, I didn’t kiss him.” Not initially, anyway. “It’s not just him. There are a lot of reasons I think this is for the best. I just happen to also be completely infatuated with Tsukishima.”

“Did you kiss him back?” Oikawa asked, eyes narrowed at the darker haired man.

“What?” Of course, Oikawa had figured it out. He noticed everything, from the glitter left over on Kuroo’s face, and probably to the bite marks on Kuroo’s lip from Tsukishima. He was a fucking genius.

“Did you kiss him back?” he repeated.

“It just sort of happened, Oikawa. I didn’t know how badly I wanted it until it was too late.” When Tsukishima had kissed him, it was as if Kuroo could finally breathe, finally give in to the urges he’d been having since he met Tsukishima. And Tsukishima had kissed _him_ first. Oikawa had no idea how good that felt to Kuroo.

There was a bitter laugh from the other man. His eyes lacked light, just a dead brown hue. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. Oh, wait, I did! Ever since he walked into _Ace_ , he’s all you could muster up a thought about. All I ever heard about was how fucking pretty and talented Tsukishima is. Couldn’t you see that I literally could not care less about Tsukishima? I don’t like him.” He was glaring daggers at Kuroo.

“You have no reason to hate Tsukishima as much as you do. He’s never actually done anything to you, Oikawa.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, he stole my fucking boyfriend, which isn’t my favourite thing in the world.”

Kuroo shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

There was a high pitched, breathy laugh, filled with deadly venom. “The way you talk about him, you make him seem like the world’s best model. He’s not even _Ace_ ’s best model, sweetie. He’s not that fucking good.”

“You’re threatened by him, and that’s why you don’t like him. Admit it, Oikawa.”

“It’s not _normal_ to talk about another _man_ in _bed_ , Tetsurou!” Oikawa stood to look down at Kuroo.

“Tsukishima isn’t the only reason I’m breaking up with you!” Kuroo snapped. He took a deep breath to calm himself, standing to face the brunet. Oikawa was poking at a fire inside of Kuroo that he knew neither of them wanted to deal with. “As I said before, there are several reasons why I’m doing this.”

“Like what?”

Oikawa had to be totally crazy if he thought he wanted to know the specific reasons Kuroo was breaking up with him. Kuroo shrugged. “Personally, you’re kind of a lot to handle, Oikawa. You love to be the center of attention, and so do I, so we clash all the time.”

“Tsukishima will be just as much to handle, I hope you realize that.”

“This isn’t about Tsukishima.”

Oikawa was looking at Kuroo like he was the stupidest man he had ever laid eyes on. “When the _fuck_ isn’t it about Tsukishima with you, Kuroo?” he shouted.

“It isn’t right now.” Kuroo was calm.

Oikawa scoffed loudly. “Would you be breaking up with me right now, if it weren’t for him? Would your futile mind come up with any of this bullshit if you didn’t want to wet your dick with some stupid blond slut?”

“I don’t fucking like you, Oikawa!” Kuroo was not calm. In fact, he was fuming. “It’s not Tsukishima, it’s you! I don’t like dating you because I want to be my own person, not _your_ person. I can’t handle that type of clinginess. You’re great in bed, don’t get me wrong, but I we were not meant to date. We were only supposed to be sleeping together in the first place.” He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together in anger. Oikawa didn’t understand a thing about how much he wanted Tsukishima, or what it was like. Kuroo laughed, no real amusement in the sound. “And the jealousy—oh man, the fucking jealousy! Is it impossible for you to not get jealous of every person who makes any sort of contact with me? You got jealous of my _best friend_ for fuck’s sake. It’s like you didn’t trust me, or anyone else, Oikawa. It’s ridiculous.” 

Oikawa’s eyes were wet, tears lingering on his eyelashes. His voice was softer this time. “I was rightfully jealous in this case.”

“Oikawa,” Kuroo sighed, “someone is going to love you very much one day, but right now, it can’t be me. We aren’t compatible in that way.”

Tears rolled softly down Oikawa’s perfect face, crystalline drops against smooth ivory, connecting under his chin and dripping onto his pants. “I really liked you, you know.” His voice was hoarse, broken even, as a sob shook his shoulders.

Kuroo shook his head. “I know. And I’m sorry I had to strong you along the way I did. I didn’t realize what I was doing until Tsukishima kissed me.”

Oikawa shook his head, looking down at his shaking hands. “I knew this was going to happen.”

Kuroo stood, walking towards the door. “I’m sure you did, Oikawa.” He opened the door, eyes focused on anything in the room, other than Oikawa’s form.

There was a sniffle, a stifled sob, and then the broken voice of Oikawa Tooru. “I hope you have a fun time breaking Tsukishima’s heart when you find a new toy to play with, Kuroo.”

=

Kuroo was standing in front of the refrigerator, looking for food. Tsukishima was leaning on the counter, long legs stretched out in front of him. He was microwaving food before he had to go to his shoot with Daishou. Kuroo started laughing to himself. He shook his head, shutting the door to the refrigerator and turned to look at the taller man. He was smiling, eyes studying the other man, flickering over his features.

"You know, Tsukki," Kuroo said, stepping closer to swipe his thumb across the blond's bottom lip. "You'd think after constantly being around beautiful people, I'd get used to their beauty. So why do you think you got my attention so easily?" He stepped closer, so their faces were merely inches apart, his fingers still on Tsukishima's skin.

Tsukishima looked at him down the bridge of his nose. "I'm not interested."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment to let me know your feelings on this chapter!
> 
> Also, go check out my my new Kurotsukki series, World's Most Expensive, if you haven't already!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several realizations occur within the mind of Tsukishima Kei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I am truly so sorry that it took me four months and three days to update this thing. I've had the worst case of writer's block when it came to this story, until earlier today, when I decided to write an entire chapter. I hope the wait didn't alter any of your feelings or love for this story, and I sincerely apologize.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Tsukishima was fairly certain that what he had just said was a lie, but he didn’t have time for any of Kuroo’s bullshit. Kuroo was standing really close to him, practically breathing air through his lungs. Tsukishima could see every pore in his tan skin, and the flecks of bronze and gold in his dark eyes.

“You were,” Kuroo said, eyes narrowed in observation of Tsukishima’s face. “You definitely _were_ interested in me.

Tsukishima walked past him, his own shoulder brushing hard against the older man’s. “I don’t have time for this right now, Kuroo. I have a shoot with Daishou.” He grabbed his jacket, ready to leave the room, and the situation.

Kuroo’s eyes flickered over to the microwave. “Aren’t you going to take your food?” he asked, tugging on his bangs.

The blond turned to look at the darker haired man, narrowing his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head. “What happened between when you kissed me, and now?”

Tsukishima scowled. “We can talk about this later, if we have to. I don’t have time, and I don’t care.”

“Whatever,” Kuroo chuckled. “I’ll see you later, Tsukki/”

The taller man opened the door, glaring at Kuroo. Sometimes, he drove him fucking crazy. “You can’t just kiss someone back and then leave, you know.”

#

Tsukishima had thought about it before, and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Since he day he’d joined _Ace_ , Kuroo had been nonstop hitting on him, for whatever reasons there were. He’d tried to kiss him, minutes before he’d started dating Oikawa. And if Tsukishima thought a boyfriend was going to change Kuroo’s way of life, he was incredibly wrong. Sure, he’d cut back on the comments and jokes, but that wasn’t even _it_. That wasn’t how Tsukishima could tell that Kuroo wanted him, and that wasn’t what was really eating at Tsukishima. Kuroo looked at Tsukishima like he was his prey, and Kuroo was ready to go in for the kill. At first. That’s what Kuroo’s look had been at first. At first, it was easy to see that Kuroo only wanted to sleep with Tsukishima, no matter how you looked at it. But lately, something had changed. Kuroo always looked at Tsukishima softly, even if he was glaring at him for being on top of Daishou. The look in his eyes was gentle, as if he was afraid to break the blond with a look. Now, Tsukishima couldn’t see that Kuroo was only looking for sex. He couldn’t tell _what_ Kuroo wanted, anymore.

Tsukishima was getting ready for his shoot with Daishou. It was nothing like the shoot with Alien Outfitters. There was no pink, or glitter, or kissing. One of the makeup artists was dabbing at his skin with a soft sponge, tapping the foundation into his pale skin, while another filled his eyebrows in with a light taupe powder. He was looking at his frown in the mirror, thinking about Kuroo.

He could be so stupid sometimes. There was no reason for Kuroo to be the way he was. He’d kissed Tsukishima back, shut him down just as quickly as he’d given in, and now, for some reason, thought he could just get Tsukishima back by asking for him. Tsukishima wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch him in the face or kiss him. He just didn’t want to give into Kuroo. He couldn’t let himself admit to any sort of feelings for Kuroo.

Daishou was sitting in the chair next to him, wearing a loose black t-shirt and jeans. Sometimes Tsukishima forgot how much he liked how the darker haired man looked in casual clothing. He was so used to seeing him in formal wear, or some sort of costume for shoots, that he forgot how effortlessly good he looked in casual wear. His hair was parted in the same way as it usually was, but it was slicked back, to an extent. They’d made his bangs stand up a little more, in a pompadour-esque look. The other side was slicked back, behind his ear. It was a much more classy, professional look than he wore every day. It fit him well. His makeup was almost done, the finishing touches being applied to his skin. His eyebrows were filled in the same black as his hair, a light coat of mascara covering his eyelashes. A smoke-like application of eyeliner was smudged on the outer corner of his eyes, making them appear even longer and more animalistic. They didn’t add any colour to his lips or cheeks, just smeared a balm over his lips for a dull, natural shine. He was wearing a pale foundation that made him look dewy, high points of his face shining in the lights of the makeup room. He was attractive in the way Tsukishima had always found him—almost like he was a living corpse. He didn’t look conventional in the slightest, and Tsukishima was sure he’d scare small children if he looked at them too intensely, but it was attractive, in a lot of ways. And he didn’t look like Kuroo, which was a relief.

“You look good,” Tsukishima stated, eyes flitting back to his reflection in the mirror.

Daishou’s expression stretched into a smile. “I’m not even dressed yet.” His eyebrows were arched high, eyes narrow and slanted, like an animal’s.

Tsukishima quirked an eyebrow up. “I know.”

Tsukishima was looking at himself in the mirror as they put the finishing touches on his makeup. His face was covered in the same dewy foundation as Daishou’s was, making him shine in a way that didn’t look quite unnatural. His eyebrows were filled in with a taupe colour, and given a much more angular shape than he naturally had. He had on mascara, and the same smudged eyeliner as Daishou did, although the eyeliner was in a soft brown colour. He didn’t have any colour on his lips or cheeks, just a dull balm on his lips. His hair had been straightened, given the same shape and style as Daishou’s. He didn’t think he looked half as good as Daishou. Then again, who could?

Well, Kuroo probably could. But that was besides the point.

They stood up to go to the shooting room, the darker haired man’s eyes eating up the blond. “Do you want to do something after this?” His voice was cool and proper, sounding more like he was propositioning the blond, rather than asking to fool around for a while.

The stylists handed Tsukishima and Daishou their clothes. Tsukishima was handed a pile of all-white, Daishou a pile of all-black. Tsukishima stripped down quickly, letting the cool air hit his bare skin, trying not to notice how hungry Daishou looked when he was looking at Tsukishima. “I would,” the blond admitted, “but I actually have to deal with Kuroo after this.”

“Deal with him?” Daishou asked, pulling black slacks on over his thin legs. His legs weren’t as long as Tsukishima’s were, but they were still fairly long, and very thin. He always looked good in tight jeans, or fitted slacks.

“He’s just been weird, lately.” Tsukishima buttoned a crisp white shirt over his torso, buttoning the sleeves around his wrists. “If I could avoid it, I definitely would.”

Daishou nodded in understanding. He slipped a plain black button up shirt over his arms and shoulders, nimble fingers working to button the collar around his neck. The black against his pale skin made him look even more deadly than he had before. The black was a solid shade, so dark it almost looked two-dimensional. It made the eyeliner and mascara stand out around his narrow eyes. He hardly looked human, dressed like this.

He tucked the black shirt into the black slacks, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles made by his movements. He tied a tie around his neck, folding the collar of his shirt over it. He put on a silky, black suit jacket, complete with a black pocket square. He slid a pair of glossy black dress shoes over his feet. Tsukishima could practically see his reflection in the shoes. Everything fit his pallor and body type so well. His skin really stood out against the dark of all of the clothing, creating a contrast that was sure to look flawless on camera.

Daishou picked up a thin belt with long, spiked studs on it, inspecting it with a skeptical expression. He tapped one of the stylists on the shoulder. “Excuse me, how does this go?” he asked. The stylist took it out of his hands and looped it around the thinnest part of his waist, right under where his ribcage ended. It went over the suit jacket and everything else, but somehow it worked well with the rest of the ensemble.

Tsukishima was wearing fitted white slacks—something he’d never even considered wearing before. Over the button up, was a silky suit jacket, that also had a pocket square in it. His tie was made from an even silkier material, shining in kin with the foundation on his face. His shoes were plain white, but not as glossy as Daishou’s. Thankfully, there was no spiked belt or ridiculous accessories. After his experience with Alien Outfitters, he was glad to have something simple and effortless to wear. 

When they were dressed, the stylists ushered them over in front of the camera, where a bright red background was set out. They positioned Tsukishima and Daishou side-by-side, the darker haired man to Tsukishima’s right.

“Alright,” the designer said, “this shoot is obviously all about contrast between the two of you. I need to see a close relationship between the two of you, while displaying the clothes as best as the both of you can. Bring whatever you’ve got.”

For the set of shots, Daishou and Tsukishima were facing outwards of each other, the shoulders closest to the camera just barely resting against each other. The hand farthest away from the camera was tucked into the slack’s pocket. They were in identical poses, both looking off into the distance with intense expressions. The camera flashed, and they moved slightly, facing the camera, keeping their shoulders together, and the hand in their pockets. They both looked straight into the camera, narrowing their eyes, raising their eyebrows. It was a pompous, cold expression, which was what Tsukishima specialized in.

For the next shot, they kept their bodies the exact same, but turned their heads towards each other, faces ending up a few inches away from the other’s. Daishou’s expression was blank, except for the eyes looking right down at Tsukishima’s lips. The blond figured he should match his partner, and looked at the shape of Daishou’s lips, observing the fullness of his lower lip, and the wide dip of his cupid’s bow.

“Good, good,” the designer clapped enthusiastically. “Get closer.”

Fully in sync, they both turned their bodies towards each other, the outfits still on display for the camera. Their faces were an inch apart, close enough for Tsukishima to feel Daishou’s breath on his lips, and close enough to see the mascara coating his eyelashes. Tsukishima parted his lips for the camera, tilting his head back in the slightest, drawing his lips closer to Daishou’s. The darker haired man had the _slightest_ smirk on his face. It was so subtle, Tsukishima wasn’t sure it’d be caught on camera. It was also just cocky enough to remind the lighter haired man of Kuroo. Which really pissed him off. He was just trying to do his job without thinking about any annoying distractions.

The camera flashed. “Closer,” the designer suggested excitedly. Tsukishima shot the designer a look, narrowing his eyes, but turned his attention towards Daishou, anyway. “Wait, wait,” the designer interrupted. “Tsukishima, could you give the camera that look again? Daishou, keep looking at him like you have been.” Tsukishima caught a glance of Daishou’s expression. It was a wide smirk, eyes narrowed in a pleased look. Tsukishima turned his head towards the camera, glaring at it as if it’d just kissed him and walked out. That was something that apparently really pissed him off.

“Perfect,” the designer smiled. “Now, you can get closer.”

Tsukishima angled his head back again, moving his face closer to Daishou’s. He could practically feel Daishou’s lips brushing against his, making the skin of his lips buzz and tingle with false sensation. He narrowed his eyes at the man, looking right into Daishou’s dark eyes, earning a few appearing smile lines.

If Kuroo had even attempted to explain himself past ‘Oikawa,’ it most likely would not be as irritating as it was. If he hadn’t kissed Tsukishima back, and had immediately stopped him, it would have been fine. But he _did_ fucking kiss Tsukishima back, with all the power and heat in the world. And then he had the nerve to ask what had happened between then and now.

To be completely honest, Tsukishima was less mad at Kuroo than he was letting on. He was indirectly mad at Kuroo, and very, very mad at himself. Every time he saw Kuroo, all he could think about was kissing those stupid fucking lips of his. They were such a deep colour, and they looked so full, and he knew that they felt even fuller. And they were so soft, but somehow they had kissed him so roughly, and Tsukishima could have gotten fucking drunk kissing Kuroo, and he hated himself, because he _wanted_ to get drunk kissing Kuroo.

He didn’t like Kuroo. Oh, no. Not at all. Especially not now. He didn’t like Kuroo, he just liked the way he had kissed Tsukishima, and the way he had made him feel. Tsukishima had liked kissing Kuroo because he was taking by the insufferable Oikawa, and that gave him a weird sense of pride that he’d rather not admit to anyone. He liked kissing Kuroo, and that was as far as it went. That was as far as he’d take it.

Tsukishima was still wearing the full face of makeup, sitting on the couch in he and Kuroo’s livingroom. He had the television on, but he wasn’t watching it. The sound was turned down low, and he was focusing on nearly everything except for what was playing on the screen. He was waiting for Kuroo. Waiting to explain to him that kissing someone back without a reason, was stupid. That Kuroo was stupid, and Tsukishima was stupid, and right now, he didn’t like either of them. There was nothing more to say.

The lock on the front door clicked, and Tsukishima could hear the doorknob turning. The door opened, and Tsukishima kept his attention on the television. Even if he wasn’t watching, looking there was better than giving Kuroo his attention. He could smell Kuroo’s cologne, sweet and musky. He wrinkled his nose.

“Are we going to talk, Tsukishima?” Kuroo asked, sounding as irritated with the situation as Tsukishima was.

Tsukishima still didn’t look at him. He desperately didn’t want to think about the way Kuroo’s lips looked, or how rough and strong his hands were, or how nice the sharp line of his jaw was. “I said we would, if we have to.”

Kuroo chuckled. “How am I supposed to know if that’s true? I mean, you apparently kissed me and then lost interest in me. How do I know what’s going on in your head?”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at the television. That’s how Kuroo was going to play it. That was fine. “You kissed me back,” he reminded. The air in the room was completely still, as if it was afraid to get in between the two men.

Kuroo chuckled again. “I know what I did. And you know why I couldn’t. I’ve told you a _thousand_ times that it was because of Oikawa.”

Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, turning his head to look at the darker haired man. He didn’t look happy with the blond. Fortunately, Tsukishima wasn’t happy with him, either. “You shouldn’t have kissed me back in the first place, then.” He’d thought it was a simple concept to understand. Kuroo was making it seem otherwise. If he didn’t want to kiss Tsukishima, then he shouldn’t have. Whatever stupid reasons there were. And if he had wanted to kiss Tsukishima back, which he clearly did, he shouldn’t have made up some bullshit excuse after they’d already made out. Kuroo never knew what he wanted, and it was really starting to get on Tsukishima’s nerves. He didn’t like indecisive people.

To be fair, he didn’t like indecisive people, or obnoxious people, or hot-headed people. And yet, he’d still kissed Kuroo. He wondered what that was about.

Kuroo was smiling a tight-lipped smile, dark eyes narrowed in amusement and frustration. He’d clearly just gotten out of a photoshoot. There was matte foundation on his face, the same pleasantly tan shade as his skin. Mascara coated his eyelashes, a charcoal colour filling his arched eyebrows. Eyeliner was spread on his waterline, and on the inner and outer corners of his upper and lower eyelids. There was a light dusting of blush over his high cheekbones, a subtle contour on the indent of his cheeks, the sides of his nose, under his jawline, and over his temples. There was a darker tint to his lips than usual, and the dull shine of lip balm. He almost looked like he wasn’t wearing any makeup, if Tsukishima hadn’t known any better. It was so, annoyingly clear to Tsukishima why he was such a popular model. “Don’t kiss someone if you’re not interested.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “This is getting redundant.” He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, when I kissed you, I _was_ interested. Now I’m not.”

“Why not?”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes and shook his head mockingly. His upper lip was curled into a mean sneer. “ _Because of Oikawa_ ,” he said pointedly.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned his weight onto one foot, studying the taller man. “It’s a good thing I broke up with Oikawa then, isn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes locked onto Tsukishima.

There was _no_ way Tsukishima felt even the slightest bit pleased to hear that. There was no weird sense of pride, or any of that. Even if there was. It didn’t matter. “Why’d you do that?” He hoped it was clear in his tone of voice that he couldn’t give any less of a fuck about Oikawa, or his feelings.

Kuroo scoffed. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “Are you being serious? I broke up with Oikawa because I like _you_ , Tsukishima. It isn’t that fucking hard to figure out.”

This didn’t change anything. Right? “Well,” Tsukishima said, tilting his head back so he could look at Kuroo down the bridge of his nose. “I’m still seeing Daishou.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, staring right at the blond, practically burning holes into his skull. “Fuck,” he laughed. “Why the _fuck_ would you do that? Of all people, Tsukishima.” He was tapping his foot quickly, jaw sticking out in anger. Tsukishima was _not_ thinking about how good his jawline looked right now. That’d be _ridiculous_.

“I like Daishou,” Tsukishima shrugged, making sure each word was enunciated perfectly, so Kuroo could understand exactly what he was saying. “He kisses me for a reason, and doesn’t send me mixed signals.”

Kuroo looked genuinely surprised. “You _like_ Daishou? Come _on_ , Tsukishima, there are _so_ many other options.”  
“Probably,” Tsukishima said. “But Daishou knows what he wants, and it’s convenient.”

“That guy’s a snake, Tsukishima,” Kuroo spat. “He’s not a great person. I know what I want now, it just took me a bit to figure myself out. Just because Daishou’s ‘convenient’ and decisive, doesn’t mean he’s good enough for you.”

“He’s just fine.”

Kuroo sighed, shaking his head. “If you say so. If you really liked him, would you have kissed me like that?”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. Kuroo was making good points, and it was really annoying him. He wished Kuroo could just shut up and let him live his life. _Without_ making Tsukishima want to kiss him with every stupid word he uttered. “So you didn’t really like Oikawa?”

“That’s only what I’ve been trying to fucking tell you forever, Tsukishima,” Kuroo frowned. “No, I didn’t like him when I kissed you. That’s why I kissed you back. It just took a little bit for me to realize that I didn’t like him.”

“Shouldn’t you have realized that like, right before you started dating him? You tried to kiss me after we had dinner,” Tsukishima reminded, recalling the first time their lips had so much as brushed. All of this was Kuroo’s fault. From that very moment, Tsukishima had unfortunately been thinking about kissing him. If Kuroo had controlled his urges like a normal human being, and hadn’t kissed tried to kiss Tsukishima moments before beginning to date Oikawa, then none of this would be happening. Give it up to Kuroo for not having self control.

Kuroo smiled bitterly. “I get it, I’m an idiot. Thanks for pointing that out. I didn’t realize how badly I’d wanted to kiss you throughout that entire relationship, until I kissed you back, okay? I’m not good at figuring that type of shit out.”

“Glad I could help,” the blond said sarcastically.

Kuroo looked at him for a moment, leaning his back against the front door. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air. It felt like there were a lot of unspoken words, but Tsukishima had nothing else to say. He’d said all he needed to say. They hadn’t moved from when they’d first started talking. Kuroo was smiling a little, eyes narrowed at the other man, studying him as if he was trying to take all of him in with just a look. “Would you have kissed me back, that night?”

Tsukishima swallowed, trying to move his attention away from the way Kuroo’s lips formed words. “I don’t know.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows, fidgeting. His eyes were locked onto the taller man, as if he was trying to read his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, as if he wanted Tsukishima to miss what he was saying. “Would you kiss me back if I kissed you right now?”

Tsukishima tightened the arms in front of his chest, and blinked at the darker haired man. He glared at him, silently pleading for him to stay as far away from the blond as possible. He dind’t need any more of Kuroo infiltrating his thoughts, or daily life. He was totally happy with the way things were. They never talked, never interacted. Tsukishima wasn’t forced to watch Kuroo’s unbearable mouth talk until he felt like dozing off. He didn’t have to see that mouth, or his hands, or the line of his broad shoulders, or any of it, at all. That’s the way things had been going, and that’s the way things were supposed to go. “I don’t know” he admitted. If he was being totally honest, he didn’t want to kiss Kuroo back. Well, he _did_ , but he didn’t want to give Kuroo the satisfaction of having the blond give in to him.

“Can I?” Kuroo almost seemed nervous. His words were cautious, as if he didn’t want to scare Tsukishima away, or startle him. He wasn’t blinking, eyes burning into Tsukishima. His lips were downturned in the slightest, barely noticeable, but a nice shape nonetheless. Tsukishima wished he wouldn’t get any closer. He half wished he _would_ get closer, and give the blond what he’d been wanting.

“I don’t care.”

Kuroo stepped forward, letting his arms fall at his sides. Tsukishima mirrored the gesture, letting his arms go. Kuroo was stepping forward slowly, watching Tsukishima’s every mood, making sure he wasn’t going to back away at the last second. He smelled good. Kuroo’s tongue came out to quickly wet his lips, his gaze lowering to Tsukishima’s lips, resting in a neutral expression. Tsukishima was looking at Kuroo’s lips, and he wasn’t completely sure he’d be able to look away, even if he’d wanted to. Kuroo’s lips were perfectly proportioned, both the bottom and top lip full, covered by a deep pink colour. His cupid’s bow was angular, hardly even a dip, and the tops of his upper lip were softly rounded. The lower lip was a perfect curve, not unlike his upper lip, and it was just slightly fuller than the upper. The edges of his mouth were permanently quirked up, giving him the appearance of a smirk, even when he wasn’t doing anything. His lips were parted in the slightest, and Tsukishima could feel his hot breath over his lips, warming the skin there.

Kuroo swallowed hard, Tsukishima’s eyes barely following the movement, before they were back on his lips. He put his hands on the sides of Tsukishima’s face, his thumbs sweeping over the blond’s high cheekbones. His hands were just as rough as Tsukishima had remembered, warm against the cool, smooth skin of his face.

The darker haired man shifted forward, gently pressing his lips against the blond’s. His lips were incredibly soft, unlike his hands, and he was pressing them together will all the force in the world. He finally moved his lips, moving them against the blond’s, slow and rough.

Tsukishima held back. He really did. He closed his eyes and tried not to focus on how good Kuroo’s skin felt against his, and kept his lips still. He couldn’t let Kuroo win this. Just because Kuroo was kissing him better than he’d ever been kissed before, didn’t mean he had to kiss back. It felt like every point of contact they made was on fire, but Tsukishima couldn’t give in. He couldn’t Kuroo back, like he’d wanted to do ever since they’d had dinner together.

Kuroo sucked on his lower lip, just barely, and that was it. Tsukishima’s lips parted slightly, and he officially lost control of resisting the man in front of him. Kuroo’s tongue came out to swipe at his lower lip, parting his lips further, and Tsukishima kissed him back. If it were possible, this kiss was even better than the one after Tsukishima’s photoshoot. There were no confetti stars, or glitter, or lip gloss to get in their way. It was skin against skin, lip against lip, and tongue against tongue.

Hands were pulling Tsukishima in closer, and Kuroo was kissing him impossibly deeper. It was a slow kiss, but their lips were pressed together so hard, Tsukishima’s lips were tingling, and felt like they were going to bruise. Their tongues slid together, tasting the other’s mouth. Kuroo tasted like mint, and the lip balm from the makeup room, and like everything Tsukishima had remembered and imagined Kuroo would taste like.

Kuroo pulled away, watching Tsukishima’s face with visible surprise. “You kissed me back,” he pointed out, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Tsukishima could see the light sheen of his own saliva over Kuroo’s lips. The darker haired man was still holding his face, his palms warm against the blond. Tsukishima felt like he could have melted into that touch.

Tsukishima swallowed, watching the way Kuroo’s lips formed around words, and the shine of his teeth when he talked. “I guess I did.”

Kuroo leaned in to kiss Tsukishima again, their lips working against each other’s in perfect harmony, feeling every indent, and crease, and every soft bit of skin there. Kuroo’s lips were full and soft, and they were pulling at Tsukishima’s lips and tongue in a way that made Tsukishima want to kiss him forever. But Kuroo was pulling away before he’d even had time to finish that thought. “Well?” Kuroo asked, eyes wide. He looked scared of Tsukishima’s answer.

“Well what?” Tsukishima answered. Kuroo’s thumbs were brushing against his cheekbones, feeling his soft eyelashes whenever he blinked. Kuroo’s hands were rough, but held Tsukishima so gently, and his fingers were so thick, but touched him so lightly, as if he were afraid to break the blond. It was the same way he’d held Tsukishima’s hips, at first, when they’d kissed in the makeup room. He’d held him as if he were a piece of thin glass, and then his hands completely crushed that glass, when he’d gotten farther into the kiss. Tsukishima was ready for those hands to grip him like they had before, to crush him under their touch.

Kuroo blinked at the blond. “Well, why’d you kiss me back?”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows at the question. “I’m sure you could figure it out, Kuroo.”

The older man looked puzzled at the words, narrowing his eyes, trying to figure out what he'd meant. He raised an eyebrow, looking at Tsukishima. “Do you like me, then?” he asked.

A small smile curled the edges of Tsukishima’s lips up, and he shook his head amusedly. “Don’t push your luck too much,” he warned, mostly teasing. He didn’t like Kuroo. It wasn’t really an option. But he definitely at least _kind of_ liked Kuroo, in a sense.

Kuroo smiled, his signature, predatory grin. “Does this make us a thing, then?”

Tsukishima shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Do people who make out qualify as a thing?”

“So, are we like, going to date, or just make out, or just sometimes make out? Because I’m pretty much fine with any of those options.”

“Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to kiss me again?” Tsukishima said, narrowing his eyes at the darker haired man.

Kuroo didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at the blond with wide eyes. “Am I ever going to understand you, Tsukishima Kei?” He was smiling, wider than Tsukishima had ever seen. He realized he didn’t really mind when Kuroo looked at him like he was going to eat him alive.

“Probably not.”

Kuroo leaned in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos telling me how you feel about this insane chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy, sarcastic endings with your cute boyfriend do exist, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... not a Good chapter, but I hope it will suffice! I'm really glad to be ending this series, and hope you all enjoy it as well!

Kuroo was standing in the middle of the shooting room, a navy-blue backdrop behind him, lights and cameras in front of him. He was wearing a suit, dark magenta slacks and jacket standing out nicely against a black button up, belt, and dress shoes. The jacket fir his frame nicely, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist. The pants, in Tsukishima’s opinion, were just short of being a blessing sent to him from the universe, because they fit his muscular thighs and ass well, showing off some of the blond’s favourite parts of him.

Someone, with mass amounts of power and patience, had gotten Kuroo’s bedhead under control. It was straightened, and slicked back messily, just enough to be sexy. It was away from his face, for once, showing off the perfect symmetry and god-like facial structure. Honestly, it kind of pissed Tsukishima off, how shamelessly attractive his boyfriend was.

He had minimal makeup on, enhancing his features to his advantage, making him look unreal on camera, from what Tsukishima could tell. Foundation smoothed out his flawless skin, mascara coated his already thick and inky eyelashes, and a light lip tint coloured the shape of his lips. His eyebrows were filled in with the same black as his hair, black eyeshadow artfully smudged on the upper lid of his eyes, his waterline filled in with a solid black.

He was looking into the camera with all the fire in the world, dark eyes narrowed, eyebrows arched, and lips slightly parted. The lights were shining down on him, showing every slope of his forehead, cheekbones, and straight nose. When the camera flashed, he leaned his head back a bit, looking at the camera down the bridge of his nose, keeping his previous expression. He was standing all-too casually, one leg bent at the knee, a hand in the pocket of his slacks, pushing the suit jacket behind his arm. Tsukishima the buttons of his shirt straining on his chest, especially when he rolled his shoulders back.

For his next pose, he took one of his arms out of the suit jacket, letting it hand off of the other side, behind him. He bit his lower lip and looked off to the side, angling his shoulder towards the camera. Without the jacket, it was easy to see how much smaller his waist was than his shoulders, the belt pulled tightly around him, the black shirt neatly tucked in.

Tsukishima still wasn’t sure how this relationship was going to work. So far, he had no complaints, Kuroo was great, and everything _felt_ like it was falling into place, but he was still skeptical. He didn’t want to fuck anything up. Kuroo, so far, had understood what Tsukishima needed, and when, and Tsukishima had tried to be the same way for Kuroo. The sex was fantastic, and Kuroo hadn’t done anything to piss Tsukishima off yet, so hopefully it would all work out.

Oikawa was finally starting to get over he and Kuroo’s break, with a lot of help from his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime. He didn’t openly sneer at Tsukishima anymore, not that the blond cared, but at least he’d stopped being so annoying about the whole ordeal. Iwaizumi usually apologized on the behalf of his best friend, whenever they happened to encounter Tsukishima and Kuroo.

Unfortunately for Kuroo, Daishou and Tsukishima were still good friends. When Tsukishima had gone to break things off with Daishou, and explain the situation, the darker haired man had understood completely, and was still willing to be friends with Tsukishima, since they’d obviously gotten along well. Tsukishima and Daishou didn’t get a chance to hang out too often, but when they did, the blond was fully prepared to hear about how much his boyfriend hated the so-called snake.

The camera flashed, pulling Tsukishima out of his thoughts, and back onto his boyfriend. Kuroo had the suit jacket slung over his shoulder now, a hip jutted out, flat stomach and muscular thighs on full display. Tsukishima constantly, silently thanked the universe for putting him with a bunch of models. Kuroo really was too good looking for his own good.

Kuroo was grinning at the camera, a similar grin he gave to Tsukishima when he was teasing him with the obnoxious nickname, or telling him how much he liked him, or bothering him while they were having sex. Tsukishima knew that grin well. Both of his hands were gripping the jacket, having looped it over the back of his neck. Tsukishima could see the muscles in his biceps flexing, his thick fingers wrapped tightly around the fabric.

Tsukishima was very ready to head back to the dorm with Kuroo.

An elbow was shoved gracelessly into his ribcage, pushing him farther to the side than he’d like to admit. “Kuroo’s pretty hot, huh?” Bokuto grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, looking at the darker haired man in front of the camera. “I’m not answering that.”

He could see Akaashi looped around one of Bokuto’s arms, out of the side of his eyes. “Bo, don’t bother him,” he sighed, pressing his cheek against the other man’s bicep.

“Aw, baby, I’m not _bothering_ him, I just—”

“Yes, you are.”

Bokuto laughed loudly, ignoring the insult. “I’m just appreciating his boyfriend’s beauty with him, that’s all.”

Tsukishima turned his head to glare at the white-haired man. “I wasn’t aware that was your job to do,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. Bokuto’s eyes got wide, before he started laughing again. “Ohoho, is someone jealous?” he teased, poking the blond in the ribs. He wiggled his eyebrows at Tsukishima, a wide grin on his face.

“You three aren’t having too much fun without me, are you?” Kuroo said, running a hand through his hair, almost returning it to it’s regular state. He was walking towards them, apparently having finished with his shoot, a grin on his face.

“No,” Tsukishima assured, letting his boyfriend pull him closer by the waist and kiss him on the cheek. The blond gave a small scowl, but didn’t object.

Bokuto shook his head dramatically, clicking his tongue. “I tried to have some fun, but this one just wasn’t having it. You really like the mean ones, don’t you?”

Kuroo shed the jacket from his shoulders, handing it to one of the nearby stylists. He started unbuttoning the black shirt from top to bottom, exposing his muscular, tan body. Tsukishima’s gaze was very focused. “Are you trying to deny the fact that Akaashi is mean?” he asked.

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed a little. Bokuto looked down at the boyfriend wrapped around his bicep. “No, no, he’s totally mean, but he isn’t so obvious about it. I think Tsukki _wants_ everyone to know how mean he is.” He tried to poke Tsukishima again, but fortunately the blind moved out of the way in time.

The blond gave a condescending smirk. “If people think I’m mean, at least they won’t want to talk to me.”

Kuroo laughed, pulling the button-up off of his body, leaving him clothed only from the waist down. He was is amazing shape, of course, as he was a model, but Tsukishima still couldn’t get over how nice and proportional his body was. He was undoubtedly very distracted, at the moment, and he hoped to _god_ that no one else would notice. “Or,” Kuroo said, pulling Tsukishima in closer, “if they’re like me, they’ll _really_ want to talk to you.” Tsukishima could feel the heat radiating off of Kuroo’s bare body, his skin soft and warm wherever it touched Tsukishima.

Tsukishima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his mind in the present. “Let’s hope no one else is like you, in that case. One is enough.”

Kuroo was unbuckling his belt, the blond’s eyes following the fingers working around the metal and leather. “So, are we all going to lunch, or what?” he asked, one arm still around his boyfriend.

“That’d be—”

Tsukishima was quick to cut Bokuto off. “Let’s just go back to the dorm,” he said casually, totally not implying that he wanted to get Kuroo naked and in bed as soon as humanly possible.

“You sure?” Kuroo asked, handing the belt to another stylist. He unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped them letting them fall to his ankles. “I’m really hungry.”

 _Well, fuck, so was Tsukishima._ “Let’s just go back to the dorm,” he repeated. Casually. Not like he desperately needed to be on top of Kuroo, or have Kuroo on top of him, or really whichever position they could get into the quickest, because Tsukishima was _really_ distracted by Kuroo’s bare, frighteningly muscular thighs, right about now.

Bokuto poked the blond in the side, before he could move away. “You’re just trying to get in my best friend’s pants,” he accused, a wide grin spreading onto his face.

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. “Why would I ever do that?” Honestly, he could usually think of several reasons right now, if Kuroo had been _wearing some fucking pants._

“He’s hot as hell, dude!” Bokuto pointed out. “I mean, look at him! He looks like a damned Greek god!”

Kuroo laughed obnoxiously, pulling the blond in closer and kissing him on the cheek again.

Tsukishima’s eyes scanned Kuroo’s mostly naked body from head to toe, eyes not missing out on the chance of lingering at the front of his dangerously tight boxers, and landing on his boyfriend’s stupid, wide grin. He curled his upper lip up into a mean sneer. “He’s alright,” he shrugged.

#

Tsukishima was on top of Kuroo, looking down at him. Kuroo’s cheeks were flushed, dark eyes blown black, mascara lingering on the edges of his eyes, even though he’d washed the makeup off. His messy hair was splayed out against the white pillow, back to it’s usual state. His lips were parted, deep breaths escaping his lips with every movement of Tsukishima’s hips.

He’d been riding Kuroo for some time now, having hurried him back into their dorm, and shoved him into the closest bed. He hadn’t even bothered turning the lights on, so his eyes were straining to see his boyfriend. He was balancing himself using two hands on Kuroo’s chest, hips grinding down onto Kuroo, the other man’s cock grinding up into him.

Kuroo’s hands were on Tsukishima’s legs, as they always were, rubbing over his thighs and up to his hips, thumbs digging into sharp hipbones. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbled, smiling up at the blond.

“Shut up,” the other man breathed, rolling his hips, leaning down to kiss Kuroo on the mouth. Kuroo’s lips greeted him with a smile, teeth clacking against teeth, wet lips sliding together carelessly.

Kuroo bucked his hips lightly, driving his cock deeper into Tsukishima, earning a quiet moan from him. “You just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could you, Tsukki?” he teased, biting at the blond’s lower lip. Tsukishima could feel Kuroo’s cock filling him inch by inch, sliding against his inner walls, slicking up the insides of his asscheeks. He was thick and warm inside of him, stretching him apart perfectly.

Tsukishima squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation. “I could’ve waited, if you’d wanted me to,” he breathed. Kuroo’s hips came up again, the head of his cock brushing against Tsukishima’s prostate. The blond absentmindedly scraped his nails down over Kuroo’s chest, leaving light pink marks.

Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima’s ass, spreading him apart even further, slamming his hips upward, cock thrusting into Tsukishima’s prostate again. The blond moaned. “Trust me, I’m not complaining,” the darker haired man smiled. He pressed his lips to Tsukishima’s neck, peppering kisses to the skin there. He dragged his lips up the blond’s neck, teeth grazing his skin, creating trails of fire wherever they touched. When Kuroo reached his lips, the blond immediately pressed forward, kissing him. Kuroo was sucking at his lower lip, his tongue coming out to tickle the wet skin there. Tsukishima breathed Kuroo in, moving his tongue against Kuroo’s, sliding against the flat edges of Kuroo’s teeth.

Tsukishima pulled away, sitting up on Kuroo’s lap. The lighter haired man picked himself up, sitting up so that only the head of the other’s cock was inside of him. He dropped himself down quickly, moaning loudly when Kuroo’s cock hit his prostate. He used the momentum to start bouncing on the other’s cock, his own thighs flexing on either side of him, back arched in pleasure. Kuroo’s thick cock was stretching the lighter haired man pleasantly, easily sliding against the loosening rim of Tsukishima’s asshole, spreading his inner walls for his girth. His ass was bouncing against his boyfriend’s lap, and he knew Kuroo could feel the jiggle of it whenever he was thrust inside of him. He also knew that Kuroo, the perverted fuck, was probably loving it.

When he looked down at Kuroo, he was smiling up at the blond, cheeks pink, white teeth showing, even in the dim light. “Tsukki, you’re way too pretty for me,” he sighed happily, rough hands rubbing the outside his thighs.

Tsukishima bent down, kissing Kuroo on the lips again. “Shut up,” he said, albeit softly, against the darker haired man’s soft lips. He sat back up, loving the way he could feel the deep chuckle in Kuroo’s chest.

His own cock was bouncing against his stomach, so he wrapped his fingers around it, other hand beside Kuroo’s broad and muscular frame to stabilize himself. He worked his hand over himself, twisting and tugging in time with the cock sliding inside of him. He bit his lip, moaning loudly at the pleasure he was receiving from both ends.

Kuroo rocked his hips upwards, in time with when Tsukishima was lowering himself of the darker haired man’s cock. The sound of skin against skin filled the damp air, both of them increasing the pace they were going at. Tsukishima could hear the continuous slapping of Kuroo’s balls against his ass, and the slickness of himself dropping onto the other’s cock, asscheeks colliding with the other’s thick thighs, probably leaving angry pink marks every time he was thrust down against the other man. Kuroo’s rough hands were pressed into the blond’s sharp hipbones, and he was sure it’d leave bruises the following day. Tsukishima was trying his best to keep quiet, small moans and gasps being fucked out of him with every thrust.

Tsukishima bent down again, crashing and capturing Kuroo’s slick lips in a hot kiss. Kuroo leaned up on his elbows, pressing impossibly closer to the taller man, lips crushed against the other man’s so hard that their teeth collided with force. Their lips were slick, fitting together perfectly, sucking and biting in any way they could manage. Tongues slid against each other sloppily, wetness coating their mouths. Kuroo was practically swallowing every noise Tsukishima made, from the subtle, surprised gasps, to the long moans he gave whenever Kuroo hit his prostate.

“I’m going to come,” Tsukishima breathed, wet lips moving against his boyfriend’s as he spoke. The darker haired man only angled his hips up more, friction and constant pressure on the lighter haired man’s prostate making his head spin. He was pumping over his own cock, which was slick with precome, wet noises urging him closer to orgasm. His eyes were squeezed shut at all the sensation, rocking his hips to the best of his ability. “Kuroo—”

White pleasure washed over Tsukishima’s vision, come spilling hot and thick over his fingers, and onto Kuroo’s bare stomach. His body was shaking at the waves of intense pleasure coursing through his body. He rocked his hips weakly, Kuroo’s cock still pumping inside of him, sloppy thrusts filling him.

Kuroo pulled his cock out of Tsukishima quickly, a wet sound accompanying the movement. He used his hand to slick over himself a few times, before come was spurting out of his cock, onto the small of Tsukishima’s back. He gave a low groan, throwing his head back into his pillow, eyes shut as his orgasm washed over him.

Tsukishima rolled off of the darker haired man, lying beside him on the bed. There was a sheen of sweat over both of their bodies, sticking their skin together.

“Good?” Kuroo asked, like he always did, rolling onto his side to look at the blond.

Tsukishima turned his head to look at his boyfriend. “Do you honestly think I’d keep having sex with you if it wasn’t good?” he asked.

Kuroo chuckled, his white teeth showing, the corners of his mascara-stained eyes crinkling. “Oh, so you’re only with me for my body,” he teased.

Tsukishima let a small smile grace his lips. “Definitely.”

#

Tsukishima was back in his normal clothes after a photoshoot with Suga, looking in the mirror at the ridiculous makeup they’d given him. What was it about his appearance that warranted extravagant makeup?

He swore to god, if he had to model another ridiculous pair of underwear, he was going to _lose his shit_.

At first, the stylist had put regular foundation on him, and he was totally fine with that. He was fine with the filled in eyebrows, the pink blush, and even the sticky pale pink lip gloss they’d brushed onto his lips. He was alright with the hot pink eyeshadow they’d covered his upper eyelid with, and the royal purple they’d brushed into the crease of his eyelid, and under his eye. He was less fine with everything happening, when they’d taken a bright blue, liquid eyeliner to his upper lid, drawing on ridiculous winged eyeliner. He wasn’t a fan of the neon yellow false lashes, either. Or the yellow mascara they’d insisted on putting on his lower eyelashes. Did they have any idea how tedious it was to take this shit off?

The worst part came when one of the stylists pulled open a drawer of tiny rhinestones, the other stylist grabbing a small pot of silver glitter between her long, manicured fingernails. He’d sighed, doing his best not to frown as they glued metallic bullshit to his face. The stylist with the glitter was patting silver under his eye with a soft, flat makeup brush. The other stylist was using tweezers to apply rhinestones to his lips, carefully placing each plastic jewel. Glitter was brushed over his eyebrows, the woman using a spoolie to comb it through the hairs, to make sure it’d be _impossible_ to get out. That was fine. Tsukishima was just going to have to have glittery fucking eyebrows for a couple of months.

When they finished, he sighed loudly, taking a look at his ridiculous appearance in the mirror. Blue winged eyeliner, pink and purple eyeshadow, and yellow eyelashes. He was never going to stop hearing about this one from Kuroo. Silver rhinestones were glued to his lips, completely covering the surface, from the pout of his lower lip, to his cupid’s bow. Silver glitter was glued under his eyes, in an upside down triangle formation, much like a clown, or someone who had been crying glitter for about ten hours straight. A shimmery powder was busted over his cheekbones, forehead, nose, chin, and cupid’s bow. On closer inspection, he could see the tiny grains of yellow glitter combed through his eyebrows.

Suga had looked the same, except that his eyeliner was pink, and lip gloss blue. At least Tsukishima hadn’t had blue lips.

All they had advertised were some stupid sweaters and platform shoes. How that had warranted a full face of bullshit, Tsukishima wasn’t sure.

He picked up a makeup wipe, exhausted from the photoshoot. All he wanted to do was get the glitter off of his skin, and out of his pores, where it had undoubtedly lodged itself.

“Wait, don’t wash it off yet,” a voice said, the makeup room’s door closing afterwards.

Tsukishima looked in the mirror to see Kuroo, and gave a deep frown. “Why not?”

The darker haired man was sauntering towards him, a smirk on his face. “You know I really like you in glitter,” he cooed, resting a hand on the blond’s lower back.

“That’s not a good enough reason for me to keep it on,” Tsukishima scowled, wiping his cheek with the makeup wipe. He wiped all of his foundation off first, along with any shimmery powder than went with it.

“You pain me, Tsukki,” Kuroo said, dramatically putting a hand to his heart. “Anyway, you looked good today.”

Tsukishima peeled his false, yellow eyelashes off in one smooth movement. He threw them in the trash bin next to the makeup counter, resuming with scrubbing his outrageously coloured eyeshadow and eyeliner off. Glitter from his eyebrows had fallen onto his eyelids, and most likely on every one of his belongings. “Why do you say that?” he asked. In reality, he probably knew why Kuroo thought he looked good today. All he was wearing was a long sweater and a pair of tall platform shoes. His legs looked exceptionally long, and that’s what Kuroo was all about. That, and the glitter.

“You’ve improved in modeling quite a bit, actually. You did really well today. Plus, you weren’t really wearing pants, and with those shoes on, your legs looked _real_ fucking good. I also happen to really like when you wear ridiculous makeup, such as you were today.” Tsukishima shot him a look. “Mostly because it reminds me of the first time we kissed.”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, surprised at the last part of his sentence. “Is Kuroo Tetsurou going soft on me?” he teased, picking rhinestones from his lips. After he washed his lips off, all he had left were his eyebrows and the glitter under his eyes.

Kuroo smiled, hugging the blond from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’ve always been soft for you,” he murmured. He craned his neck forward, trying to kiss the blond on the lips.

Tsukishima set the last few of his rhinestones back in the drawer, glancing sideways at the darker haired man. “I can’t kiss you right now,” he frowned, leaning away from Kuroo.

“Why not?” he pouted.

Tsukishima looked at him incredulously. “I’m still wearing makeup. I don’t need glitter all over you, too.”

“I don’t mind,” Kuroo grinned, his breath hot against the blond’s neck.

“ _I do_ ,” Tsukishima frowned, but turned to kiss his annoyingly, and adorably persistent boyfriend on the lips. Kuroo’s hands quickly found the sides of his face, pulling him closer, the rough skin holding him gently. Tsukishima sighed, partially out of annoyance, and partially out of contentedness.

Kuroo was kissing Tsukishima as deeply as ever, not minding the smear of sticky lip gloss over his own lips. His tongue was gliding over the taller man’s lower lip, just barely brushing past his lips.

The door swung open, forcing Tsukishima away from his boyfriend, and back to his makeup wipes. He quickly started wiping away the glitter from under his eyes. Bokuto was standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, looking very proud of himself. Akaashi was standing behind him, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Bo, I told you not to do that,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto grinned widely. “Sorry, baby, but I told you it’d be worth it! We finally caught them in the act!”

Akaashi sighed. “That shouldn’t be something you look forward to.”

Kuroo was completely unfazed by this whole ordeal, bounding forward to hug his best friend. “Bro! Lunch?”

Tsukishima was glad to see his boyfriend’s expansive and sophisticated vocabulary.

Bokuto grinned, the both of them swaying from side to side with their hug. “Duh!” the white haired man said.

Only Akaashi could truly sympathize with what Tsukishima was feeling right now.

Tsukishima just focus on removing his makeup, pulling another makeup wipe out of the package to scrub the glitter away. He had one side finished, his cheek slightly pink from so much friction, and the other side was almost done.

Bokuto hooted loudly, bending over with what seemed to be an obnoxious laugh. “Kuroo,” he gasped between giggles, “your face.”

Kuroo frowned, a cute confused smile on his face, and went over to look in the mirror next to Tsukishima. The blond turned his head to look at him when he started laughing, seeing the pale pink lip gloss smeared over his lips, and the flecks of silver glitter than had chosen to stick to his skin.

Tsukishima scowled, handing Kuroo a makeup wipe without hesitation. He didn’t want to hear any more of this from Bokuto, much less Kuroo himself. Kuroo clicked his tongue, and the blond was already sighing. “Wow, Tsukki, you monster,” he teased, shaking his head.

Tsukishima finished wiping the glitter out of his eyebrows, as much as he could, and straightened his back, throwing multiple makeup wipes in the trash. “Are we going to lunch, or not?” he said, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.

Bokuto nodded, bouncing towards his boyfriend excitedly. “Let’s go!” he said, grinning down at Akaashi. He pressed a kiss on his forehead, earning a soft smile from the darker haired man.

Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima’s hand, earning a glare from the blond, and grinned. “You’re really cute, Tsukki,” he said. His dark eyes were locked onto Tsukishima’s face, studying the way his eyes narrowed at the other’s words.

“Stop it,” Tsukishima glared, the corners of his mouth turning down in a frown.

Kuroo laughed loudly, his shoulder bumping into the blond’s. “What, I’m not allowed to call you cute anymore?” he said. “That gets rid of like… thirty percent of what I say.”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, snickering. “Maybe you should find more things to say,” he suggested.

Kuroo stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. “Fine, fine. If you insist. Tsukki, you’re beautiful.”

“Stop it.”

A dramatic sigh. “Tsukishima, every time you wear shorts, I get so hard I almost pass out.”

“Gross, stop.”

The fluttering of eyelashes, as Kuroo moved his face close to the blond’s. “Tsukki, you’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at, and I’d stare at you for a hundred years, if I was able.”

Tsukishima grimaced, letting go of Kuroo’s hand and pushing him away. “I’ll go back to the dorm, I swear,” he said, a small smile stretching his lips as he spoke.

“Fine, fine,” Kuroo chuckled, reaching to grab the blond’s hand again.

“Dude, you’re _whipped_ ,” Bokuto laughed, looking back at the two of them. Akaashi’s arms were wrapped around one of Bokuto’s thick biceps, walking close beside him.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at Bokuto accusingly. “Bro, you’re one of the most whipped people I have _ever_ met.” He waved his finger around, motioning at the position Bokuto and Akaashi were in.

Akaashi just shrugged in agreement.

Bokuto looked down at Akaashi with wide eyes, taking in the arms wrapped around his, and the way Akaashi leaned his cheek on Bokuto’s arm every so often. “Shit, dude, you’re right,” Bokuto laughed, using his free hand to pat his boyfriend on the head.

While Tsukishima was shaking his head at his boyfriend’s best friend, he felt Kuroo stiffen up. He was like a cat, about to be put into water. “Don’t even look over here, snake,” Kuroo said threateningly, calling across the room, practically begging everyone to look in their direction. Tsukishima would never understand why his boyfriend had to be so outrageous.

Tsukishima looked up to see Daishou, walking in the opposite direction as the four of them. “I’m just trying to get to the makeup room, Tetsurou. Worry about yourself, perhaps?” he bit, a tight-lipped smile stretched over his thin lips. “Hey, Tsukishima.”

“Daishou,” Tsukishima nodded, almost apologetically, for his boyfriend’s behaviour.

“How about, you don’t look at my boyfriend, punk?” Kuroo said, raising his eyebrows. His eyes were wide, the dark hue staring right at Daishou, unwavering.

Daishou raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t even looking in that direction before you shouted at me, Tetsurou,” he pointed out.

Tsukishima started walking forward, pulling Kuroo along by their clasped hands. “Kuroo, you’re being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Sorry, Tsukishima,” Daishou said, looking at the blond.

Kuroo put a hand up to shield Tsukishima’s face, which was immediately removed from the area. “I said not to look at him,” he spat, narrowing his eyes so far, they were almost closed.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Kuroo, I swear to _god_.”

Kuroo pointed a finger at Daishou. “You get off this time, snake-boy. Only because Tsukishima’s hungry. Got it?”

Daishou smiled condescendingly, nodding his head. “I think I understand what you’re saying, although, it is hard to tell, with you.” He turned to the blond again, the bitter expression wiped off of his face. “I’ll see you later, Tsukishima.” To which the blond nodded. Daishou walked off, leaving the other four in peace.

Kuroo slumped his shoulders again, walking alongside Tsukishima, as if nothing had happened. The blond tugged him forward, scowling at him. “Kuroo, stop trying to pick fights.”

Kuroo shrugged carelessly. “I wouldn’t have actually fought him,” he said. “I have a job I need to keep. Mostly because I have a really cute roommate I think I’ll get to hook up with.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Tsukishima.

“I don’t think so,” Tsukishima said, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh, yeah?” Kuroo grinned, pressing a wet kiss to Tsukishima’s cheek.

Tsukishima pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, eyeing his boyfriend. “Not if you keep trying to fight Daishou,” the taller man threatened, with a convincing narrow of his gold eyes.

Bokuto was literally skipping in front of them, trying to keep a hold of Akaashi’s hand, while belting out a song about double dates. Akaashi was looking less than pleased, closely resembling someone who was having to take care of a very hyperactive toddler.

“I’m glad we’re together, Tsukki,” Kuroo said.

“Just kiss me, if that’s what you want.”

“If you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has stayed with this fic for so long, it really means a lot that you have supported and followed this series.  
> Also, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has given me fanart for this verse, that is truly the highest form of flattery, and the art was absolutely incredible.
> 
> Please leave a kudos, comment, question, etc, telling me how you feel about this finale, and the series as a whole.
> 
> For a final time, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> This is already a mess and I've hardly even started. Anway, although that was action-lacking (like any first chapter is, really), feel free to leave a comment, kudos, or anything you'd like. Thank you for reading!


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